


Just Watch Me

by triggerswaggiehavoc



Series: Whatever This Is [1]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: ???? idfk, Alternate Universe - High School, Confessions, Denial of Feelings, Eventual Romance, Fluff, M/M, Mild Language, Underage Drinking, a light side of jeonghao, full-fledged memery, side soonseok kinda, slight angst, weird side junhoon that i never planned for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-06-16
Packaged: 2018-05-22 00:32:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 57,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6064033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triggerswaggiehavoc/pseuds/triggerswaggiehavoc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Wonwoo is forced into taking a home economics class his senior year, he doesn't see how his luck could get much worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Mandatory course credits. A well-known evil to all high school students. Jeon Wonwoo suffered through two useless years of French, one painstaking year of art, and a hellish semester of finance to satisfy his graduation requirements, but despite all his hardships, he hadn’t felt too battered by the system so far. The past three years were about as mediocre as he’d expected them to be, and now, in his senior year, he was just ready to be done; however, the school system wasn’t quite ready to let him rest.

All those years of classes he’ll never need, three years of compulsory public education, and somehow, a certain requirement had managed to slip right under his nose. He would never have known if it weren’t for his guidance counselor calling him into her office during the last few weeks of school before summer break and informing him with a very urgent voice that he had yet to receive his home economics credit.

“Home economics?” Wonwoo asked incredulously, cutting off his counselor in the middle of her sentence. “We have that here?”

“Yes, Wonwoo,” she said, tapping her glasses further up her nose with a dainty fingertip. “Thank goodness I noticed you haven’t taken it yet, too! Otherwise you would’ve gone all next year and not graduated!” Wonwoo’s eyes stared forward coldly as she chuckled at the notion. After she calmed down, she went on. “Fortunately, you’ve got a study hall, so we can just fit it in right there, no problem.”

Big problem. Wonwoo had waited three years to have a study hall after getting callously bumped into worthless elective classes whenever he thought it might finally enter his grasp. Coming into senior year, he was certain he would be at the top of the list for a spot in that glorious room, that haven where one could sit for an entire period doing absolutely nothing, and he had been until this stupid home economics class came along and snatched all his hopes and dreams away.

“Why is home economics even a requirement, anyway?” He demanded, trying to keep his rising anger from showing in his voice. “Don’t you think that’s a little dated?” His counselor sighed, clicking her blue nails on the desk before her. The way she exhaled told Wonwoo before she even spoke that she was annoyed with his question.

“Yes, I suppose it _is_ little dated, but do keep in mind that I am not the one who decides the graduation requirements.” Her eyes were icy on Wonwoo’s face, pushing him a little lower in his seat. “If you’ve got a problem with it, you can take it up with the school board, though at this point it doesn’t matter. Starting with next year’s freshman class, it’s no longer a requirement.” Wonwoo groaned. How fantastic for them, that they don’t have to endure this. His counselor cleared her throat. “Anyhow, you can go back to class now. I just needed to tell you about this little change. Have a good break!” She donned a highly manufactured smile and sent Wonwoo out the door with a wave that was more menacing than kind, and as he trudged back to class, he couldn’t help but feel his projection for the next year grow increasingly more dismal.

Over the summer, he tried to forget about it, and it sort of worked. He hung out with his friends a lot, he read a lot of books, he watched a lot of dumb cartoons; part of him actually started to think it might not be so bad. But now, as he crosses the threshold into the home ec classroom on the first day of classes, he is unable to dismiss the overwhelming feeling of dread settling in his gut.

He sits in a seat close enough to the back to make it obvious that he’s not interested in the course, but not so far back that he gets roped in with the usual back-of-the-classroom delinquents. He stares blankly at the empty board as the classroom slowly fills, not even turning his head when a girl comes in and claims the seat beside him. The teacher is still mysteriously absent from the room when Wonwoo is sure the bell is about to ring any second, but just as that horrendous cacophony announces to the whole school that the period is beginning, a stout little man rushes into the room with his hands planted firmly in his pockets, fluorescent light glinting off his bald head.

“Hello,” he grunts, his voice gravelly and unfriendly. He starts tapping a foot on the ground without rhythm, and Wonwoo can already tell he won’t be enjoying this class. “I hope you’ve all enjoyed your first few classes today,” are the next words that come from his lips, and Wonwoo can’t detect a genuine sentiment behind any of them. “I’m Mr. Park, and I’ll be your home economics teacher for this year. Is anybody in the wrong place?” When nobody speaks up, he nods and pulls his hands from his pockets to bring them together with a dull clap.

“Great,” he says unenthusiastically. “Before we get started, I’ll just let you all know I have a very precise way I like things to be done. Stand up, and push the desks together into pairs, like this.” He draws a diagram on the board, and after a few quiet minutes of shuffling, the desks have been arranged into a few rows of pairs. Wonwoo’s about to sit back down when Mr. Park speaks again. “Stay standing, because I’m about to give you your seats.” Ah, excellent, thinks Wonwoo. Assigned seats. Each moment he spends in this classroom confirms his suspicions that it’s going to suck. “As most of the work we’ll be doing in class is better done in pairs, I’ve assigned partners randomly to all of you already. When I call your name, come sit in the seat I’m pointing to.”

Wonwoo tunes out until he hears his name, not even paying attention to the name of his partner when it’s called. His seat is in the second row back from the front, which is closer than he typically likes to sit, but he figures he’ll just have to deal with it. Once Mr. Park has assigned every seat and stalked back to the front of the room, he clears his throat and resumes speaking in a dull monotone.

“These will be your partners and seats for the whole year. You better like each other, because I will not be changing partners around under any circumstances.” Ah, Wonwoo thinks, even more excellent. I’ve got the world’s greatest curmudgeon as my teacher. “I don’t really have a lesson planned for today, so feel free to get to know your partner for the rest of the hour, but be aware that if you get too loud, I will be forced to silence you.” Considering the direction his current streak of luck has been going, Wonwoo isn’t all too jazzed about looking to see who his partner actually is. The only reasonable expectation he has at this point is that his partner will be some greasy slacker who’s going to force all the work onto him for two long semesters.

He turns to his right and is pleasantly surprised to see that the guy beside him is pretty normal-looking. He is also unpleasantly surprised to see that said guy has already been staring at him. When he notices Wonwoo turning around, he sits up straight and extends a hand.

“I’m Kim Mingyu,” he says, flashing a smile that reveals a charmingly tilted set of perfectly white teeth which features uncommonly prominent canines. “Nice to meet you. Let’s get along this year.”

“I’m Jeon Wonwoo,” Wonwoo replies, tentatively reaching forward to shake his hand. After a few seconds of uncomfortable, silent eye contact, Mingyu bursts into laughter, covering his mouth with his hand when he sees the desire to reprimand shining in Mr. Park’s eyes. At first, Wonwoo is just confused, but when he sees tears start to slide down Mingyu’s face, something about the sudden fit of laughter starts to bug him.

“What’s so funny?” Wonwoo asks flatly, watching as Mingyu attempts to calm himself down. Not much pisses him off more than jokes at his expense, and from what he recalls, he hasn’t said anything that warrants such hysterical laughter. At length, Mingyu finally stops laughing and begins wiping the tears from his face, intermittent chuckles occasionally shaking his frame until he’s able to look Wonwoo in the eyes again.

“I just thought, you know,” he begins, unable to suppress the smile stretching across his features, “wouldn’t it be hilarious if your name was Jeonwoo Wonwoo?” He starts giggling again, and Wonwoo can’t find the energy to do anything but stare back at him blankly.

“Are you kidding me.” It doesn’t have the ring of an actual question; Wonwoo doesn’t want an answer from Mingyu. All he wants is to know why life has decided to take a dump on him recently. Not only was he robbed of his study hall and stuck in this stupid home economics class with his cranky teacher, but also he was assigned a partner who thinks having the name Jeonwoo Wonwoo is legitimately funny enough to cry over. He drops his face into his hands. “Are you _kidding_ me,” he repeats.

“Come on, Wonwoo!” Mingyu whines, slapping him a little too firmly on the back. “Jeonwoo Wonwoo! It’s funny!” When Wonwoo says nothing, he repeats the name again for emphasis.

“Please. Stop repeating it,” Wonwoo begs, head still cradled in his hands. “It’s not funny. It’s really… _really_ not funny.” Wonwoo never understood why his friends got so upset when he made bad puns, but now he thinks he finally understands. I’ll never do it again, guys. I am so sorry. When he doesn’t hear a response from beside him, he looks up to see Mingyu frowning, arms crossed in front of him. “Are you really sulking right now because I didn’t think your lame joke was funny?”

“No,” he huffs unconvincingly. “And it wasn’t lame. It was hilarious.”

“Fine, it was hilarious.” Mingyu’s face is immediately overcome by the evil grin of a champion.

“So you _admit_ it was hilarious!” How can this guy honestly be so annoying?

“No,” Wonwoo denies sighing. “It wasn’t hilarious. I’m just trying to appease you.” Mingyu grumbles, but doesn’t say anything else. Looks like it’ll be a nice, long year of annoyance. Great.

After eons of Wonwoo ignoring Mingyu’s attempts to make conversation as they wait for class to end, the bell finally rings, and everyone in the room is immediately out of their seats and bustling toward the door. When he stands up, Wonwoo sees that Mingyu is actually pretty tall. He’s only a few centimeters taller than Wonwoo, but since he’s been the tallest one in his group of friends for a while, it irritates him a little bit. When Mingyu catches his eyes, he offers another bright smile, seemingly already over the harsh damage Wonwoo had inflicted by not finding his joke funny and ignoring him for half an hour. Wonwoo rolls his eyes and walks out of the classroom to start his journey to literature with Mingyu tailing close behind.

He makes his way down a hallway and around two corners before he realizes Mingyu is still behind him. “Oh my god, are you following me? Dude, cut it out.”

“Why don’t you stop following me in front?” Mingyu responds with a wide grin, and Wonwoo decides he really is not going to be able to deal with this childishness for a whole year. Thankfully, he sees his classroom up ahead, and as soon as he reaches the doorway, he ducks in and escapes Mingyu.

Or so he thought. Mingyu has walked into the room right behind him.

“No way. You’re telling me you’re in my lit class, too?” Wonwoo’s luck is too unbelievably bad for him to comprehend at this point. Mingyu takes a look around before responding.

“Nah, this is a senior lit class. I’m a junior. I just thought it would be funny to make you think I was in your class.” He smiles and walks out the door with a wink. “See you later, hyung!” Wonwoo massages his temples to deter the headache he feels coming on. A guy with blue hair and a wide smile drapes an arm over his shoulder.

“What’s up, Wonwoo? Who was that?” Looking at his infectious smile almost makes Wonwoo want to be cheerful himself, but it turns out to be impossible when he thinks about how obnoxious Mingyu is for even a second.

“Ah, Soonyoung. He’s just some dude I got partnered with in home economics. He’s super annoying.”

“Really? He looks pretty nice, though. What makes him so annoying?” Just as Wonwoo’s about to answer, a whole group of his friends bustles in, and they begin to fill in their seats, a loud cluster in the center of the block of desks. Soonyoung takes the liberty of telling the whole group that Wonwoo’s got an annoying classmate, but when Wonwoo finally gets to explain what makes him so annoying, he doesn’t find much sympathy.

“Jeonwoo Wonwoo,” Seungcheol manages to gasp out between fits of laughter. “That’s the funniest thing… I have ever heard… in my _life!”_ The rest of his friends are in a similar state of disarray, slapping at their thighs and stomping their feet, and Wonwoo still cannot comprehend why anyone would find that funny. The only one aside from Wonwoo himself who isn’t amused is Jihoon.

“I agree, that was terrible,” he concedes over the raucous cackling of the other boys, “but only because it’s exactly the kind of joke you would make.”

“What? I have never made a joke that bad.” All of his friends miraculously come to their senses at the same time to turn on him.

“All your jokes are that bad,” Jun says, receiving many nods of approval. Before Wonwoo can retaliate, Jeonghan is hopping on the bandwagon.

“He’s right. I have never heard you make a good joke. Ever.” More nodding.

“You guys are assholes.”

“But we’re assholes that love you,” Jisoo says with a fond smile and a reassuring pat on Wonwoo’s shoulder. “And that’s what counts.” As the final word escapes his lips, the bell rings, and their uptight-looking teacher begins class. Wonwoo does suppose he’s had one great stroke of luck in having all his friends in the same lit class, but as of right now, he’s not convinced it’s worth the nightmare home economics is going to be.

After a rowdy hour of literature, the bell rings to dismiss them to lunch. Wonwoo welcomes the break with open arms. At least, he would have if it weren’t for the sound of a certain voice calling out to him.

“Ah, hyung!” He pretends not to hear it and continues walking, but the voice isn’t giving up that easily. “Wonwoo-hyung!” At this, Wonwoo’s whole crew turns around, leaving him no option but to acknowledge the thorn digging into his side. “Hey, we have the same lunch period! It must be destiny. We should eat together.”

“What?” Wonwoo asks, incredulous, as Mingyu stares at him with sparkling eyes and a bright smile. “I think I must have missed the development where we became friends.” Genuine hurt overtakes Mingyu’s features.

“What about all those times we shared in class together? Did that mean nothing to you?”

“We’ve literally had one class.”

“Please, hyung. I seriously do not know anybody else in this lunch period. I promise I will never make fun of your name again.”

“Oh!” Seungcheol cries, realization setting in. “You’re the guy that made that hilarious joke! Hell yeah, you can eat with us!” Mingyu points a finger at Wonwoo’s chest, smirking.

“I _knew_ you thought it was funny!”

“Oh, no, he didn’t,” Jun says, ushering Mingyu toward their lunch table. “But don’t worry, he’s never made a good joke in his life, so he has no idea what’s funny. Here, Wonwoo, you sit next to him since he’s your friend.”

“Acquaintance,” Wonwoo corrects as he’s shoved into the seat next to Mingyu. “And all of my jokes are good.”

“They really aren’t,” Soonyoung says, sliding in beside him. “You could learn a thing or two from, uh… Mingo.”

“It’s Mingyu. Kim Mingyu.” Mingyu smiles and extends his arm across Wonwoo to shake Soonyoung’s hand, sparking a chain of his friends going around the table and introducing themselves. It pisses Wonwoo off how well Mingyu is getting along with everyone right from the start. It especially pisses him off how every time Mingyu laughs at something, he puts his hand on Wonwoo’s shoulder. By the end of lunch, Wonwoo feels like Mingyu’s actually one of his friends, and finds himself laughing along with the rest of them. That pisses him off the most.

When they walk home after school, Wonwoo can’t hear five words without one of them being Mingyu, and he’s starting to get a headache. This year looks like it’s going to be just as bad as he thought.


	2. Chapter 2

When Wonwoo climbs into bed that night, he’s almost too exhausted to pull on the covers. The first day of classes was always tough, but for some reason, this particular first day really did a number on him. The moment his head hits the pillow, he can feel sleep already starting to creep up on him, eyelids unable to stay away from each other as his whole body sinks into the mattress. All his muscles relax inside his snug cocoon of blankets, and he waits for blissful slumber to pull him in. Any moment now.

Wonwoo isn’t usually one to have any beef with blissful slumber; things usually work out best for him when they cooperate. At this moment, though, when he is waiting so patiently yet remaining awake, he’s finding it hard to keep his calm. No matter how still he is, no matter how many sheep he counts, his brain refuses to let him just peacefully go to sleep. He’s just lying there, trying to mind his own business and get some damn shut-eye, so why does Mingyu keep showing up every time he attempts to stop thinking?

Damn that Kim Mingyu! Even when he’s not actually here, he’s still annoying. Wonwoo takes in a deep breath and counts to ten, exhaling slowly. It won’t help if he gets mad. He just needs to calm down, and then he’ll be out like a light in no time. Well, that _would_ work if it weren’t for Kim Mingyu lying in wait to foil his plot. The second he’s forced out the last push of air, a certain smiling face is dancing on the backs of his eyelids again. The more his brain makes him remember it, the more charming that slanted smile is. By the time he actually falls asleep, he’s half-convinced he doesn’t mind it. At least, he is until it greets him again in his dreams. When he wakes up in the morning, he’s sure he’s seen enough Mingyu to last him two lifetimes.

When he walks into home economics, he sees that, once again, Mr. Park is not in the room, and also that the only other student who has already arrived is the one he’d least like to see. Mingyu offers a toothy grin when he sees Wonwoo walk in the room, and he can’t help but groan. _I get it, you’ve got a great smile. Could you shut up about it for one second?_

“Aw, you think I’ve got a great smile, hyung? You’re so sweet!” Mingyu keeps up the cheesy grin as Wonwoo plops down in the chair beside him with a heavy sigh. Looks like the old ‘thinking out loud’ habit strikes again, always ready to pounce when Wonwoo hasn’t gotten enough sleep. “I think you have a great smile, too. At least, I think you _would,_ if you knew how.” Wonwoo stares blankly as Mingyu pokes a finger into each cheek and tries to act cute.

“Ugh.” It may be nearly halfway through the school day, but it’s still _way_ too early for these antics. “I smile all the time. I just hate you.”

“Nah, I don’t buy that. If you hated me, you wouldn’t have invited me to eat lunch with your friends.” He gives a solid thumbs-up with an accompanying nod, assuring Wonwoo he’s got all the facts down perfectly.

“Ah, interesting,” Wonwoo muses. “I seem to recall a certain someone whose name rhymes with _Mim Kingyu_ practically begging me to let him eat lunch with me and my pals yesterday.”

“Well, don’t you think if a guy whose name rhymes with _Won Jeonwoo_ really didn’t like me, he wouldn’t have agreed? Hm?” Mingyu snaps his fingers for impact and points at Wonwoo in accusation. “Hm?”

“This is also interesting,” Wonwoo concedes, “as I do _not_ seem to recall this Won Jeonwoo agreeing to anything. In fact, if my memory serves me correctly, and it always does, the one who agreed was actually _literally everybody else_.” Mingyu snaps again, mouth slowly folding from a smile to a frown. He puffs his cheeks out in a pout that half of Wonwoo thinks is cute and half thinks is disturbing. The second half is severely taken aback and slightly appalled that the first half even exists.

“But it wasn’t _that_ bad, right?” Wonwoo can hear the hurt in his voice, and even he knows it’s probably just because Mingyu really doesn’t want to be forced to sit alone, part of him starts to feel a little sympathetic. He mercilessly beats that part of him back down to where it came from.

“The cafeteria is my temple, Mingyu. And you are a filthy heretic who just waltzed in like he owns the place.” Mingyu lifts a hand to his face, visibly struggling to suppress laughter. “What’s so funny now? _Please_ tell me it isn’t Jeonwoo Wonwoo again.” Mingyu shakes his head vigorously, soft chuckles slipping out from between his fingers.

“The cafeteria is your temple?” he asks, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I’m supposed to be the big dork here when you say a weird ass line like that?” He exhales cheerfully, resting a hand firmly on Wonwoo’s shoulder. Wonwoo tries to shrug it off, but he must have slathered glue on his palm, because the damn thing doesn’t budge. “Now I’m _sure_ you don’t actually hate me, because if you did, there’s no way you would say such a lame line.”

“But I really—” Wonwoo starts to say, but he’s cut off by the bell and Mr. Park storming into the room before he can finish. He hadn’t even noticed his other classmates arriving. Mr. Park kicks off class with a riveting read-through of the syllabus that Wonwoo is sure could have fit nicely into yesterday’s class, but he’s nonetheless relieved he’s able to make it through the hour without having to hear Mingyu’s voice again. When he gets up to make a beeline, he feels a warm hand tighten around his wrist.

“Why don’t we walk to class together, hyung? We’re going the same direction.” Wonwoo doesn’t want to say yes, but there’s no way he could stop Mingyu from walking with him anyway, so he just sighs and keeps heading toward the door, dragging a big pain in the ass along with him.

“How were all your classes yesterday?” Mingyu asks pleasantly after a spell of walking in silence. Wonwoo raises his eyebrows. “Do you think the year is going to go well?”

“Why are you asking weird-uncle-at-a-family-reunion questions? Actually, never mind that,” he corrects when he feels fingers slipping between his own. “Care to explain why you’re holding my hand?”

“I think _you’re_ the one who’s holding _my_ hand.” Wonwoo rolls his eyes. He can hear the smile without even looking.

“Jesus. Are you five?” A draft hits his palm as Mingyu’s hand pulls away and Wonwoo realizes they’ve already reached his classroom. The walk had felt much longer yesterday.

“See you at lunch!” Mingyu yells way more loudly than proper hallway etiquette allows while he continues taking massive strides toward his own destination. Wonwoo dips into the classroom as fast as possible to avoid the judging stares of the passersby in the hallway, but he still feels several sets of eyes on him as he makes his way to his seat. Looks like nowhere is safe.

“Are you guys like best buds now or something?” Soonyoung asks with a poke to Wonwoo’s side the moment he sits down.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Dude, we all heard him,” Jun says, flipping his notebook open without so much as a glance in Wonwoo’s direction. “He may as well have been on the intercom.”

“I thought you hated him,” Seungcheol prods. “Have you finally succumbed to his hilarious jokes? Do you admit he’s way funnier than you?”

“He’s nowhere near as funny as I am and I _do_ hate him.”

“Then why are you smiling?” Jeonghan asks with a wide smile and double finger guns pointed at Wonwoo. When he doesn’t get an immediate response, he reaches over for a painfully loud high-five from Jisoo, then settles back contentedly in his chair and wiggles his eyebrows. “Checkmate, Wonwoo. Admit it. You think he’s actually not that bad.”

“… I’m not smiling,” he manages after a few moments of thought. He’ll die before he admits to the strange charisma in Mingyu’s irksome childishness.

“What kind of…” Jisoo cuts his thought off halfway through to massage his temples. “We can see your face. You know that, right?” He brings his hands together and tilts them more toward Wonwoo with each word. “We can see you smiling. You really can’t lie to us about this.”

“God why are you guys grilling me so much? You’d think I just left the scene of a murder with a gun in my hand.” Jihoon opens his mouth to speak, but the call of the bell and disapproving stare of the teacher save Wonwoo from further interrogation. Too bad there’s nothing to stop his friends from shooting him looks all period.

By the time the bell rings again to dismiss for lunch, Wonwoo would really rather just eat alone. He’d had at least one pair of eyes on him at any given time during the whole period, and he’s starting to get really annoyed. He feels like a suspect under constant surveillance, which is obnoxious enough on its own, but it’s ten times as bad when he hasn’t actually done anything to warrant it. He’s two seconds away from proclaiming that he’s going to eat lunch on his own when he feels an arm around his shoulders, and something about the angle of it tells him it doesn’t belong to someone short.

“Ah, Mingyu!” Soonyoung exclaims. “So you two _do_ get along!” Mingyu snaps and points a finger at Wonwoo for the second time today, a winning smile on his face, but Wonwoo’s already stopping him with a hand and ducking out from under his arm.

“We don’t get along. I think I’m gonna eat alone today. You kids have fun.” He stalks off to the discontented wails of his friends, but none of them bother to follow him. He slips out to the courtyard and finds an empty bench, lying down on it with the full length of his body. Good move, Jeon Wonwoo. Eat alone, indeed. You skipped breakfast this morning, and then you didn’t pack a lunch. He brings his eyes to a close, trusting the bell to wake him from any short nap he might fall into, and waits until it’s time to go to the next class.

The only problem is that his stomach is growling too loudly for him to think about anything but how hungry he is. Ideally, he’d be able to lie there and sort out his feelings about Mingyu and get rid of the headache he’s had since yesterday, but all he’s actually able to do is lie there regretting his choice to avoid the cafeteria _. Damn you, Kim Mingyu! You rob me of my happiness, my friends, and my lunch!_

“Whoa, okay,” comes a voice from above Wonwoo, and he snaps his eyes open to see nobody but that very Kim Mingyu standing over him. Yet another case of thinking out loud. He’s got to stop doing that. “I have yet to rob you of _anything,_ Jeon Wonwoo.” He drops a bag onto Wonwoo’s stomach, knocking the wind out of him and forcing him to sit up, sputtering. “And I _brought_ you your lunch.” Still coughing, Wonwoo opens the bag to see a tasty-looking lunch. Mingyu turns and starts to walk back down the sidewalk, but in a stroke of genius, Wonwoo hooks a foot around his leg to stop him.

“Where did this come from?” he asks, looking into Mingyu’s eyes as he turns around. Wonwoo is shocked to see them swimming with a mixture of anger and hurt. He swallows before continuing, voice a little less firm. “They don’t sell stuff like this in the cafeteria.”

“It’s my lunch,” Mingyu says curtly, turning to leave again. Before he even has time to think about it, Wonwoo’s other leg is shooting out to inhibit Mingyu’s progress.

“Mingyu, I can’t eat your lunch.”

“Why not?” Mingyu snaps suddenly, and Wonwoo’s first instinct is to shrink himself. “What’s wrong with it?”

“What? Nothing’s _wrong_ with it, I just can’t… You know…” Wonwoo moves his hands in small circles, trying to find his words, and when he looks back up, Mingyu is smiling smugly, the look in his eyes from just moments ago completely disappeared.

“Are you worried about what I’m going to eat, hyung?” As much as that self-satisfied look pisses him off, Wonwoo nods his head a little anyway. Mingyu squats to be at eye level and rests an arm on Wonwoo’s leg. “Don’t be. I bought a lunch from the cafeteria. I also ate half of Seungchceol’s lunch. And Jihoon’s. And Soonyoung’s. And—“

“I get it,” Wonwoo says, holding a hand up to stop him. “But why did you even buy a lunch when you’ve got a perfectly good one right here?” Mingyu’s eyes twinkle a little.

“Call it intuition, but I had a feeling you didn’t bring your own lunch.” He offers a sly wink, and Wonwoo isn’t really sure how to feel about it. “And you give me the distinct vibe that you don’t eat breakfast.”

“What the hell kind of vibe is that?”

“Don’t worry about it. Just eat your food. I could hear your stomach growling from ten feet away.”

“Fine,” Wonwoo mumbles, taking the food out of the bag and starting to eat. He’s surprised by how good it tastes. He’s also surprised by the intensity of Mingyu’s stare as he watches him eat. He gulps down a bite and takes a swig of water before speaking.

“Let me hazard a guess here,” he starts, breaking Mingyu’s focus. “Did you, by any chance, make this lunch yourself?” Mingyu’s cheeks tint slightly, and he averts his gaze.

“Before I answer that, you have to tell me what you think of it.”

“It’s really good.” A small smile lights up Mingyu’s features. Is he shy? Wonwoo can’t believe it.

“Yeah, I made it.”

“As I suspected.” A hand strikes Wonwoo’s knee hard, and he can’t help but whimper a little bit at the sting.

“Were you lying? You ass! You actually think it’s bad, don’t you?” His hands start swinging at Wonwoo. “Give it back! I’ll eat it myself!”

“No!” Wonwoo cries, dodging Mingyu’s furious swipes. “It’s good, I promise! Please let me eat it!” After a few more grabs, Mingyu calms down and rests his chin on the seat of the bench.

“You really think it’s good?”

“Yes.” It’s hard for Wonwoo to maintain eye contact when he’s acting so uncharacteristically bashful, but he forces himself to do it anyway. “Now, are you gonna apologize for smacking the hell out of my leg?”

“Are you gonna apologize for being an ass to me for no reason?” The question catches Wonwoo off-guard.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” This earns him another hit. His leg is going to be bruised tomorrow.

“Bull _shit,_ you don’t know what I’m talking about. You are actively mean to me because I made one joke. Which was hilarious, by the way.” Mingyu sighs heavily. “I think we both know I don’t deserve it.” Wonwoo groans.

“Fine. I’m sorry. I’ll stop being mean.”

“I’m sorry about your leg,” Mingyu responds, patting it gently. “I didn’t mean to hit you so hard.” After a long pause, he pipes up again. “Can we be friends now?”

“What? Why do you want to be friends?”

“Because I like you, hyung,” Mingyu answers immediately, with his stupid smile. Despite how sick of it Wonwoo felt after last night, that set of teeth is quickly growing on him. “And we’re year-long partners in home ec, so we may as well get along.” Wonwoo thinks for a moment before he says anything.

“Okay. Yeah, alright. We’re friends.” Mingyu springs up into the air, smile wider than Wonwoo’s seen yet. He claps a few times before proclaiming the news loudly.

“Woohoo! We’re friends!” A girl who’s escaped early from the cafeteria passes by in time to see Mingyu’s excessive display and sends a questioning glance in their direction. “Hey,” he says, flashing another dazzling smile to the girl as she tries to walk by. Wonwoo can tell immediately that she’s in awe of Mingyu’s looks when she just stares back blankly, but Mingyu doesn’t seem to notice. “You see this guy?” he asks with a gesture to Wonwoo, who buries his face in his hands. “He’s Wonwoo-hyung. We’re friends.” He crosses his arms proudly as the girl shuffles off, leaving Wonwoo to heft himself off the bench and gather his things in shame.

“Let me tell you something as a friend,” Wonwoo begins, and Mingyu quirks an eyebrow, still smiling stupidly. “You’re super weird. You need to calm down.”

“ _I’m_ super weird?” Mingyu cries incredulously. “Hyung, have you even _met_ your other friends? Soonyoung pretended to make a crab with his hands yesterday.” He scoffs. “And have you met _you_? You called the cafeteria a temple this morning.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Wonwoo sighs, getting a head start on the walk to his next class. Mingyu trots to catch up, walking along beside him. “You fit right in.”

That evening, Wonwoo climbs into bed just as tired as he was the night before. He can tell he’s right on the cusp of sleep when he hears a loud buzz a few inches from his head. His hand moves lazily over to grab his phone and unlock it, eyes squinting at the bright screen in the darkness of the room. It’s a text from Soonyoung.

**hey I meant 2 text u abt this earlier but I forgot. mingyu told us today that u just held his hand 4 no reason and im just concerned bc that does not seem like a very U thing 2 do so. are u ok**

Wonwoo lets out a hefty sigh, locking his phone back up without even bothering to respond. _I’m gonna kill that damn tree._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to everyone who gave chapter 1 a chance, and thanks for all the feedback! greatly appreciated! also, didn't realize it was listed as chapter 1/1, DEFINITELY an ongoing fic lmao. please stick with me!


	3. Chapter 3

A few weeks pass by in a flash. The first month of school is almost over before Wonwoo realizes it’s been happening. Mingyu has basically melted right into his group of friends. He’s still just as obnoxious, but somewhere along the line, Wonwoo just got used to it. In a deep part of him to which he will never admit, he’s actually glad Mingyu ended up as his partner in home economics. Their first assignment, making bread from scratch, turned out splendidly thanks to Mingyu’s preexisting skill, and it’s looking like that will be the case for most of the other assignments. Wonwoo feels a little guilty for not being of much help, but it’s hard to let it get to him when Mingyu makes it so clear that he’s having fun.

Today when Wonwoo arrives, he sees that it’s one of those unusual days where he beats Mingyu to the classroom. He slides into his seat to wait for his companion to appear or for Mr. Park to make his eventual entrance and start class, whichever happens sooner, but before he can even register it, a body is sliding into the seat next to him, and it’s not the one he normally sees there.

“Hey,” says the girl who’s stolen Mingyu’s seat, small and hunched with short brown hair framing her face. The longer Wonwoo looks at her, the more certain he is that he’s never seen her before. Is she even in this class? Then again, Wonwoo hasn’t really bothered to know anyone aside from Mingyu. There were some days he forgot who Mr. Park was. “Can I ask you a question?”

“You just did,” Wonwoo says dryly, “but yeah, go nuts.” What kind of question could she possibly have for a guy she’s never talked to before? A survey for some class, maybe?

“That, uh,” she begins, looking down at her hands as she wrings them anxiously. “That guy. The one who, uh, sits here.” She points down at the chair she’s in. “You know.”

“Yeah. Mingyu.” Wonwoo eyes the girl cautiously as he says his name, trying to pick up what she’s about to put down before she even has it in her hands. Does she want to ask Mingyu out? Wonwoo’s not too sure this is the best way to go about doing so.

“Yeah. Him.” She gulps, fidgeting for a minute before continuing. “Are you two, like, a thing?” She finally raises her eyes to meet Wonwoo’s, but he can only stare back blankly. It takes a few moments of stunned silence before he can manage a reply.

“What” is the genius response he is finally able to articulate. He doesn’t really mean it as a question, but the girl takes this as a cue to explain in further detail.

“Sorry,” she says with a blush. “What I, uh, mean is, are you together? Like, an item. Or a, uh, couple. Like, are the two of you g—”

“Ooh, you and who, hyung?” Mingyu intrudes on the conversation with textbook Mingyu timing, placing his hand on Wonwoo’s shoulder and widening the unfamiliar girl’s eyes. “You didn’t tell me you were dating anyone. Also, who is this? And why is she in my seat?”

“We’re not,” Wonwoo clips before the girl can say anything to Mingyu, giving off with his eyes the strongest ‘get out of here’ vibe he can muster. Either he’s excellent at giving off vibes or this girl is excellent at interpreting glares, because she gets up and scoots to the back of the classroom without so much as another breath. Mingyu slides into his seat with a wide grin on his face, nudging Wonwoo as he sinks into the chair.

“Who was she talking about, huh? Huh?” Mingyu wiggles his eyebrows as he continues to dig his elbow into Wonwoo’s ribs. “Huh? Tell me, hyung!” Wonwoo rolls his eyes and lets out a heavy breath.

“Nobody,” he says, already sapped of all his energy for the day. The nerve of that girl to ask such a question. Mingyu, of all people. Jesus! Wonwoo has standards.

“Hmm, I think I see,” Mingyu hums, and for a split second, Wonwoo’s heart stops in its tracks. “She was asking about Mr. Park,” he concludes with the typical snap, eyebrows raised in anticipation of affirmation.

“What goes on in your brain?” Wonwoo wonders aloud. “Do you even have one?” With a lighthearted smack on the shoulder, Mr. Park enters the room, and class goes by like normal.

That is, until the end of the period, when Wonwoo and Mingyu are making their usual exit from the classroom, and the older of the two boys becomes acutely aware of a very pointed stare aimed at his back as he passes through the doorway. Internally, he prays to anyone who’s listening that Mingyu won’t do anything to fuel the girl’s suspicions, but he’s Kim Mingyu, so of course he puts his damn arm around Wonwoo’s shoulders as they walk into the hallway. Wonwoo feels the stare on his back grow three times as sharp in that moment, but he knows he’ll tip Mingyu off if he makes any sudden movements, so he just deals with it until he gets to his next class.

“Guys, you will never believe what this girl in my last class just asked me,” Wonwoo says as he slips into his seat.

“If she asked you where you come up with your amazing jokes, then you’re right. I definitely won’t believe it,” Jihoon says with a smirk, but Wonwoo just shoots him a glare before going on.

“She asked me if Mingyu and I are _together_ ,” he informs them, incredulity evident in his tone. He gestures wildly with his hands, but his audience just stares back silently. “As in _dating_. With _Mingyu._ ” He looks between their faces, waiting for one of them to say anything, but instead, they just turn to look at one another, exchanging wordless glances as he watches impatiently.

“You know what?” Seungcheol says after what Wonwoo feels is an eternity of waiting. “I actually do believe that.” Wonwoo’s jaw makes contact with the tiled classroom floor.

“I second that,” Jun says with a nod. “Actually, I would have believed that happened even if you didn’t tell me about it.”

“What the hell, guys!” Wonwoo cries, throwing his hands in the air. “What do you mean you believe it?”

“I actually kind of see where she’s coming from,” Soonyoung says, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “What’s really unbelievable is that she just asked you today.”

“What the—” Wonwoo starts again, but is immediately cut off by Jeonghan’s hand.

“Now that you mention it,” he says with a mischievous glint in his eye, “I just realized that Mingyu is _exactly_ your type.” Seungcheol points enthusiastically at Jeonghan, reaching in for a high-five with his other hand. Wonwoo gawks at the sight before him.

“My type?” he asks, receiving a chorus of nods in response. “What type is that, exactly?” Jun ponders a few moments before answering.

“Handsome?” All but Wonwoo nod sagely, giving Jun handshakes to acknowledge his accuracy.

“Handsome? That’s it?” Much to Wonwoo’s irritation, they just keep nodding and occasionally patting Jun on the back. “Do you guys really think all I look for in a guy is handsomeness?”

“Yeah, man,” Jisoo says, reaching over to give Wonwoo’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “That’s kinda your whole type.”

“Screw you guys. You’re all assholes.”

“Assholes that love you,” Jisoo corrects. “And assholes that know your simplistic taste in men.”

“You know, you can say ‘assholes that love you’ as many times as you want, but it doesn’t make you any less assholes.”

“I know,” Jisoo says wisely, “but it still makes me feel better.” The bell rings, and Wonwoo notices to his dismay that the figure standing at the head of the classroom isn’t wearing the stern face of their usual teacher. _Anything but a sub_.

“Your regular teacher called out sick last minute, so he didn’t leave me any work for you,” the sub says, leaning back against the podium. “I don’t care if you guys talk, just try to keep it down.” While the rest of the class cheers, Wonwoo falls into despair. This is _exactly_ what he was afraid of. An entire period of being able to talk freely really just means an entire period of being grilled by his alleged friends, and judging by the looks on their faces, that’s precisely what they have in mind. Wonwoo lets his forehead smack the desk and surrounds his head with his arms.

“Come on, Wonwoo, there’s no need to be so dramatic,” Soonyoung croons. “There’s no shame in liking handsome men.”

“Okay, so maybe I _do_ like handsome men,” Wonwoo grumbles in defeat, “but that’s not _it._ I have standards. And Kim Mingyu doesn’t satisfy them.”

“Standards?” Jun asks, bemused. “Please, Wonwoo, humor me and tell me some.” Wonwoo lifts his head up to stare dully at the blank chalkboard several feet in front of him. He hasn’t really thought about this before. But surely he can’t be weak for just _any_ handsome guy, right?

“Uh… Someone with a good sense of humor.”

“Wow, you know what?” Jihoon says. “Mingyu’s got one of those. And it’s better than yours.” Wonwoo furrows his brow as he tries to come up with something else.

“Nice and easy to talk to.”

“Are you doing a character sketch of Mingyu or something?” Seungcheol asks. “So far, he’s two for two.” Suddenly, Wonwoo snaps his fingers.

“Can’t be overly touchy-feely.” He grins, turning to see their faces. He knows he’s got them here. Jeonghan sighs.

“Alright, Wonwoo. It’s already pretty obvious that you’re coming up with these on the spot.” Wonwoo tenses up. It irks him that Jeonghan can see straight through him like that. “It’s even more obvious that you made that one up _specifically_ to target Mingyu. What’s it gonna be next? Can’t be named Kim Mingyu? Can’t be taller than you?”

“Hey,” Wonwoo interjects defensively, “you can’t prove that I—”

“Actually, I _can_ prove it.” Jeonghan cuts him off before he can even get to his point. “Do you remember that guy you liked sophomore year? Don’t say you don’t, because I _know_ you do.” He aims the tip of his finger at Wonwoo as he continues, not even giving him a chance to speak. “That guy was all over you all the damn time. And you loved it.” Wonwoo opens his mouth to object, but Jeonghan just keeps talking. “You just don’t want to admit that Mingyu is basically your ideal guy.”

“That is _not_ true,” Wonwoo grumbles, a faint trace of red tinting his cheeks as he realizes he doesn’t believe his own words. _No, Jeon Wonwoo! Be strong!_ He refuses to let himself admit to Mingyu’s charms, internally or externally. Having already established the ‘I Hate This Guy’ dynamic, it would be ridiculous of him to back up now and say he’s attracted to Mingyu. Especially since they’re technically friends. No way, no how.

“Deny all you want, Wonwoo,” Jihoon says, “but the more we talk about this, the more I am convinced.”

“Then why don’t we stop talking about it?” Even as he says this, Wonwoo knows his friends have no intention of stopping, and much to his expectation, they do not. After nearly an entire hour of being prodded about his hidden feelings for Mingyu, which he denies vehemently at every turn, he’s incredibly relieved to be dismissed to lunch. He stops being relieved when he remembers that Kim Mingyu himself will be there in the lunchroom, and prays once again that the bunch of goons he calls friends won’t say anything about what they’ve just spent an hour yapping over.

As they near the cafeteria doors, Wonwoo feels Mingyu drape his arm over his shoulders in classic Mingyu fashion. Wonwoo tenses up immediately, waiting for one of his friends to say something snide, but after a few moments of holding his breath and hearing nothing, he concludes with great relief that they at least have the decency to drop the topic in front of Mingyu. He’s less relieved, though, when he sits down at the lunch table and sees a set of several wide smirks opposite him. Jun raises his eyebrows suggestively, and it takes every drop of his self-control to keep Wonwoo from sending a fist his way.

“So,” Mingyu begins with his arm still around Wonwoo, seemingly oblivious to the strange behavior of his new friends, “my friends and I are all going to hang out after school today, and I think it would be really cool if you all came, too.” He looks between the others with an enthusiastic smile on his face, taking their equally large grins as excitement about the idea. “Then, we could, like, all be friends. What do you say?” He squeezes Wonwoo’s shoulder and turns to him, face a little closer than Wonwoo would like. He can see the twinkles in his eyes. “Eh, hyung?”

“Bummer,” Wonwoo says, averting his gaze as quickly as possible. “I’m gonna be sick this afternoon. I’m sure everyone else can go, though.” Soonyoung slaps Wonwoo a little too hard on the arm and laughs a little too loud before speaking.

“Oh, our Wonwoo is such a kidder. Don’t let him fool you, Mingyu. He’s healthy as a horse,” he says, jabbing his elbow into Wonwoo’s ribs with extra gusto. Wonwoo turns to glare at him, but stops when he sees a terrifying glint in those eyes even as they squint with exaggerated laughter. “It sounds like fun. We’ll all be there.”

“Sweet!” Mingyu cheers with another big smile. “I think you guys are gonna get along. All my friends are pretty cool.” Everyone is immediately convinced by Mingyu’s good word, so it’s decided. After school, they’re all meeting up by the front entrance of the school to go hang out at the park. Wonwoo’s not sure whether he’s excited to meet Mingyu’s friends or not, but he does know that the sneers on the faces of his so-called friends leave no space for anything but dread.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo everyone! we're finally getting to the rest of the members next chapter. HOORAY! thanks for sticking with me so far, and i hope you continue to do so!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang's all here.

That afternoon, Wonwoo makes his way to the school’s front entrance to find a small group of guys already waiting there, none of them familiar to him. He has no real reason to believe that these are Mingyu’s friends, but he’s convinced they are. He doesn’t know what it is about them, but he gets a very distinct Mingyu vibe from the bunch. As he cautiously heads in their direction, a few of the boys turn their heads to look at him. One of them bursts into a cheesy grin, and this somehow confirms Wonwoo’s suspicions.

“You must be Wonwoo,” the guy says, maintaining his gummy smile. “I’m Seokmin,” he adds with a hearty laugh, reaching out to offer a handshake, and Wonwoo can’t help but smile. This guy’s cheer is contagious.  Wonwoo’s about to ask how Seokmin knew it was him when he sees his gaze shift to somewhere behind him. “Ah, Mingyu! He’s just as handsome as you said!”

Wonwoo turns just in time to see Mingyu arriving next to him, arm snaking around his shoulders. “Right?” Mingyu says to Seokmin, turning to Wonwoo with a wide beam. “Did you just get here, hyung?” Wonwoo releases a heavy sigh, the weight of Mingyu’s arm around him not boding well for the afternoon. He can already feel the looks from his friends.

“Yeah, I just got here,” he says unenthusiastically, receiving a shoulder squeeze in response.

“No need to be so glum, chum!” Before Wonwoo can say anything about the weird rhyme, Mingyu’s already speaking again. “Here, I’ll introduce you to everyone. Obviously, that’s Seokmin,” he says with a point to the still-smiling face across from him.

“I’m Seok- _mean_ ,” he says with an unconvincing thumbs-up. If Wonwoo couldn’t already tell these are Mingyu’s friends, he has no doubts now.

“Yeah,” Mingyu says tiredly, “don’t listen to anything he says. He’s the nicest one here.” Wonwoo is taken aback by Mingyu’s evident exasperation. _Now you know how I feel_. The guy standing immediately next to Seokmin pipes up at Mingyu’s comment.

“I resent that statement,” he huffs, crossing his arms. “I think it’s pretty clear that I’m the nicest one here.”

“That’s Seungkwan,” Mingyu says, ignoring the boy completely and earning another frustrated scoff.

“I can speak for myself, you giraffe,” Seungkwan says, promptly transforming his scowl into a winning smile and reaching out to shake Wonwoo’s hand. “Boo Seungkwan. It’s your pleasure to meet me.” Wonwoo shakes his hand hesitantly, unsure if he’ll be able to deal with this guy’s overabundant confidence, but before he can worry about it too much, the guy next to Seungkwan is already introducing himself.

“I’m Hansol,” he says, revealing a second gummy smile as he extends his hand. Does Mingyu just naturally surround himself with big smilers or what?

“Pleased to meet you,” Wonwoo says, and the guy gives an enthusiastic nod in return, his entire body bobbing with the movement. Wonwoo barely has time to think anything about him before the next one down the line is introducing himself excitedly.

“Nice to meet you! I’m Chan,” he says with a wide smile and a shy bow. “I hope we get along!” Wonwoo isn’t sure how to feel about the others yet, but this kid is so pure that he can’t help but warm up to him. He bows in return and turns to the next and last of Mingyu’s friends, a skinny guy with curly blonde hair.

“I’m Minghao,” he says quietly, tilting his head down in respect. “Mingyu’s told us a lot about you.” Mingyu reaches over to give him a smack on the arm, and Minghao laughs a sheepish little chuckle. Wonwoo doesn’t really see how this kid fits in with the rest of the group; he’s much more quiet and subdued than the others. Before trying to figure it out, though, he turns a set of raised eyebrows toward Mingyu.

“Told them a lot about me, eh?” he asks, sharps eyes scanning Mingyu’s face. “What exactly does that entail?”

“Ah, hyung! You’re hilarious.” Mingyu gives him a hard slap on the back, following it with a bout of raucous laughter all on his own.

“What the hell are you laughing at?” The sound of several sets of feet stomping over alerts Wonwoo to the arrival of his friends before Mingyu has the chance to answer. With a strong knot of unease in his stomach, he turns to look at his nearing comrades, finding with little surprise that they all approach with wide eyes and wider grins. Jun takes a look at Mingyu’s arm over Wonwoo’s shoulders and wiggles his eyebrows so wildly that it’s concerning. Wonwoo, of course, is far too irked to feel any concern for Jun or his poor eyebrows.

Once the two groups merge, introductions are repeated until everybody knows everyone else, and the noise level goes up tremendously. It’s not until a member of the janitorial staff threatens to smack them all with her mop that the now-enormous group of boys remembers their plan to go to the park. Finally detaching himself from Wonwoo, Mingyu takes to the head of the formation and leads the gang to the park alongside Seungcheol. Wonwoo drifts to the back as they walk, and eventually, a certain blue head wanders back to join him.

“Any reason you’re walking all by your lonesome at the back of the pack, Mr. Emo?” Soonyoung asks with his typical cheese. Wonwoo shoots daggers back at him.

“You know _exactly_ why, Mr. Sunshine.” When Soonyoung just shrugs while maintaining that ridiculous smile, Wonwoo gives him a firm punch on the arm. “Leave me alone about Mingyu,” he whispers harshly. “And by that, I mean stop being so damn weird every time I’m within three feet of him, you and everybody else. He’s going to notice.”

“And what’s so bad about him noticing?” Soonyoung barely has time to get the last word out before Wonwoo punches him again.

“I’m not interested in him, you moron,” Wonwoo clips. Soonyoung doesn’t look convinced, but he bites his tongue, sensing another punch in his future if he interjects. “And if he doesn’t even like guys, the thought that his friend has a crush on him is only gonna make him twice as uncomfortable. So please, cut it out.”

“I get it. I’ll lay off,” Soonyoung concedes, a smug grin appearing on his features. “But have no doubt about this, Wonwoo. Kim Mingyu likes guys.” Wonwoo raises his eyebrows in question, the rest of his face remaining blank.

“And I’m supposed to trust that information?” he asks dryly. “When have you ever talked to Mingyu about this?”

“I haven’t,” Soonyoung admits, “but I know. I can tell. Trust me.” Wonwoo tries to shrug it off as foolishness, but deep inside, a part of him tenses up. Soonyoung has been known to be scarily accurate about this type of thing. When Wonwoo first came out to his friends, all they said was that Soonyoung had already told them. He’s also been right about every single guy Wonwoo has dated so far, and his cousin that came to visit, and the girl that works in the convenience store across the street from the library. _It’s just a coincidence._ Wonwoo repeats this to himself ad nauseum, but he can’t quite get himself to believe it.

“Alright, Wonwoo,” Soonyoung mutters, patting him on the shoulder before he leaves to go back up toward the front of the group. “You really might want to do something about that bad habit of yours where you say whatever you’re thinking aloud sometimes. It used to be funny, but now it’s just kinda weird.” Soonyoung flits back up to the main cluster of boys just quickly enough to avoid Wonwoo’s swinging fist.

The park to which they’re headed is made up of a large plot of land, its associated pond, and a nice, shiny playground that's just been refurbished. The moment they arrive, they all undergo a very sudden transformation into children, going four at a time down the slides and nearly ripping the swingset out of the ground with vigorous movements back and forth. Even Wonwoo can’t help but giggle along with the rest of them as they put all their weight into getting the little merry-go-round to spin at top speed. After a short while, though, their overabundance of boyish energy burns out. Within one hour, they’re all splayed out on the ground around the playground, staring straight up at the sky in a daze. Wonwoo’s chest rises and falls steadily until he catches his breath, eyes squinting at the wide expanse of blue far above as he wonders what they’re going to do now. The playground has lost its appeal; maybe they’ll just go home? As much as Wonwoo wishes that would happen, he can’t foresee Mingyu allowing the afternoon to end so easily.

“I’ve got an idea,” Mingyu says suddenly. _Right on cue, as always_. Wonwoo bolts upright, but to his relief, it looks like he didn’t say that one out loud. Mingyu mistakes Wonwoo’s sudden change in posture for interest in his idea and snaps his fingers excitedly. “We should have a dance battle.”

“A dance battle?” Wonwoo asks unenthusiastically. _Why?_ Further conversation is stalled by the sudden leap of Soonyoung directly into a standing position.

“I’m ready,” he says confidently. “I invite any man here to throw their best at me.” Wonwoo sighs defeatedly. Of _course_ Soonyoung would be game for a dance battle. Out of the corner of his eye, Wonwoo sees another figure struggling up from the ground.

“You _know_ I’m here for a dance battle,” Chan announces, crossing to Mingyu. He locks eyes with Soonyoung in a fierce stare. “I won’t lose,” he declares, and Wonwoo feels a pang of sympathy. He has yet to see Soonyoung bested by anyone in the field of dancing. “C’mon, Minghao, stand up,” Chan insists with a wave of his hand. “You’re doing this, too.” Much to Wonwoo’s surprise, Minghao gets up immediately and starts stretching like he partakes in dance battles daily.

“Jun! Jun!” Soonyoung calls, hands cupped around his mouth in hopes it might help the distant boy hear his cries. _How the hell did Jun even get so far away?_ After a few minutes of continued yelling and steadily rising in volume, Jun pulls himself off the ground and waddles back to the rest of the group to let Soonyoung fill him in on the situation.

“I’m in,” he says, cracking his knuckles. “But only if Jihoon does it, too. We can’t just _not_ have Jihoon participate.” A muffled groan comes from where Jihoon’s body is slumped on the ground.

“Why do _I_ have to?” he grumbles, making no move to leave his spot. Jun tiptoes over and starts nudging him with his foot, a mischievous grin playing at his lips.

“Because you’re the _bee’s knees_ , Jihoon. You’re a dancing machine trapped in a tiny, tiny body.” Wonwoo feels a chill run down his spine. It goes without saying that you don’t bring up Jihoon’s size if you value your life, but then again, Jun’s always had guts and a reckless disregard for his own safety.

“When I actually feel like getting up,” Jihoon begins tiredly, “I will kill you.”

“Oh, sorry, did I say that?” Jun asks innocently, smirk not budging. “I meant a tiny, adorable body. You’re _sooooo_ cute, Jihoonie.” Wonwoo blinks, and when he reopens his eyes, Jihoon is already off the ground and smashing his fists forcefully into Jun’s sides to the charming ring of his opponent’s laughter. _How can Jun be laughing right now when he knows he’ll be covered in bruises tomorrow?_ Despite the damage, Jun keeps laughing until he can get a hold on both of Jihoon’s wrists and stop the attack.

“Look, Jihoon! Now that you’re standing, it would be a huge waste if you didn’t dance.” Jun smiles charismatically as Jihoon stares up at him with lifeless eyes, still trying to break his hands free. Eventually, he lets his arms go limp, closing his eyes and exhaling a long sigh.

“Fine, I’ll do it,” he concedes at length, the will to fight completely drained from his tone. “Let me go.”

“Only if you promise not to hit me,” Jun says with a sly wink.

“I promise not to hit you,” Jihoon says, maintaining an icy glare, and the second his hands are free, he smacks Jun over the back of the head and snickers. Jun rolls his eyes, keeping up a smile as he rubs his head tenderly.

“Well, now that _that’s_ all sorted out—”

“Hold on.” Chan cuts Jun off with a hand. “If you’ve got 3, that means we need another person.” He looks around hopefully, eyes finally resting on Seokmin’s smiling face.

“Who, me?” he asks with a laugh, immediately springing to his feet. “I couldn’t possibly. Hahaha! Well, if you insist.” That gleaming smile doesn’t leave his face while he speaks, and Wonwoo still isn’t quite sure what to make of him. If nothing else, he’s lively.

“Nice!” Mingyu says, clapping his hands as his proposed dance battle comes to fruition. “Alright, we’ll play rock-paper-scissors to see who’s going first, then winner gets to pick a song.” Chan defeats Soonyoung easily to secure the victory, and when Mingyu asks what song he wants, Chan cuts him off before he can make it halfway through the sentence.

“Michael Jackson,” he says without hesitation, fire burning in his eyes. “I don’t care what song, as long as it’s Michael Jackson.”

“Somehow, I am not surprised,” Mingyu says. Leaving Wonwoo no time for questions, he immediately sets Michael Jackson’s _Bad_ blaring through his phone speakers.

Like a flash of lightning, Chan slides to the middle of the circle of boys. _When did we even form a circle?_ Wonwoo doesn’t even remember standing up, but here he is, on his own two feet and directly next to none other than Kim Mingyu. He doesn’t have time to worry about that, though, because Chan’s dancing commands every single drop of his attention. His movements are so violent, yet so precise. In addition, his expression is fierce, in stark contrast with the sweet visage he’d shown before. There’s no doubt this kid could go toe-to-toe with Soonyoung, and Wonwoo can’t get his eyes to look away.

“He’s a huge Jackson fan.” Mingyu’s voice is right next to his ear, and he can feel the breath from each word stirring his hair. “Diehard. We’re talking shrines.” Wonwoo nods numbly, both unable to look away from Chan and too afraid to turn and see how close Mingyu’s face really is. Within a matter of moments, though, the baton gets passed to Soonyoung.

Wonwoo’s seen Soonyoung dance plenty of times before, so he’s mostly used to it, but there’s a part of him that’s still amazed every time he sees his friend in action. He glances at the faces around him, the faces of Mingyu’s friends, and sees that same admiration that he always feels. He hazards a glance at Mingyu himself, but instantly regrets it. He’s making a face like he just saw the sun rise for the first time, and Wonwoo’s heart tightens; of course, he shames the damn thing back into normalcy, but his brain won’t let him forget what he just saw. Thankfully, he’s able to distract himself by watching Minghao, who’s just stepped out to dance. _Bad_ ends, and Mingyu plays Vanilla Ice’s _Ice Ice Baby_ next. _Where does this guy get his taste in music?_

The second Minghao starts dancing, Wonwoo is lost. This quiet kid just comes out here and starts breakdancing like a champ? He tears up the grass with his complex steps and wild body swings, and as if that weren’t enough, he finishes off with a legit ass flip. Jun steps up to the plate with his usual sexy club moves, but after Minghao’s display, it’s shockingly lackluster. After _Ice Ice Baby_ wraps up, Mingyu puts on some Chris Brown song, and Wonwoo can see the lights flicker on in Jihoon’s eyes. He creeps forward with his classic fancy footwork, paying no attention to the fact that he’s out of turn, but everyone is too impressed by his dancing to stop him. Once he finishes up with a few last cool steps, it’s Seokmin’s turn. He steps forward purposefully, a serious look on his face for the first time all afternoon, maybe even his entire life. He draws in a deep breath, building up the anticipation, then proceeds to perform the absolute dumbest dance moves Wonwoo has ever seen with his own two eyes.

Hansol and Seungkwan are on the ground in a matter of seconds, gasping desperately for air through raucous laughter. Soonyoung breaks into what may be the widest grin Wonwoo has ever seen, and Mingyu clasps Wonwoo’s shoulder to keep himself from falling to the ground. All through the chaos, Seokmin keeps the straightest possible face, flailing around like an idiot all the way until the song ends. Soonyoung applauds wildly, coming forward to grasp both of Seokmin’s hands in his own.

“I must admit,” he begins, suddenly serious, “you are too good. I humbly concede the victory to you and your team.” Seokmin finally breaks into grin at the words, bowing reverently.

“Thank you, mighty Soonyoung. It means the world coming from you.” When he looks back up at Soonyoung’s face, the pair collapse in fits of laughter, falling on top of each other on the ground.

“Wait a second!” Jun shouts suddenly, bringing the uproar to a screeching halt. Soonyoung and Seokmin look up in confusion from where they lie entangled on the grass, and Jun clears his throat. “You haven’t seen our trump card yet.” Soonyoung raises his eyebrows in question, but Jun dons a smug smile in response. “We can’t end this battle without first seeing the body roll of our very own Jeon Wonwoo.”

“No,” Wonwoo says immediately, but his friends are already cheering, chanting ‘body ROLL, body ROLL’ over and over until they don’t sound like real words anymore. Wonwoo sighs dramatically, and just as he turns to ask Jun to play a song, he hears some weird, unfamiliar tune with a funky beat pouring out of the speakers on Jun’s phone. He does a few small moves to get the feel of the music, then does the requested body roll to a chorus of screams. He watches Mingyu’s jaw hit the floor directly in front of him, and he can’t suppress the smirk that creeps onto his face. Something about having that effect just feels so _good_ , especially since it’s Mingyu, but Wonwoo isn’t interested in finding out what it is that gives him that feeling. He’s not exactly sure he wants to know.

He walks coolly back into the circle, bowing as the applause dies down. Just when Seokmin is about to transfer the victory to Team Soonyoung, though, Chan chimes in. “I hate to say this,” he says, not sounding at all like he hates to say it, “but _you_ haven’t seen _our_ trump card.” Wonwoo sighs. _With my luck, it’s probably Mingyu._ “Kim Mingyu, your chest pumps!” he announces excitedly. Wonwoo is too annoyed to find any pleasure in the accuracy of his prediction.

Wonwoo watches Mingyu step suavely to the center of the circle, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. Jun resumes the music, and after taking a few moments to internalize the beat, he reveals the legendary chest pumps. Wonwoo feels the breath get sucked right out of his lungs. Mingyu’s staring directly at him, and… is he biting his lip? What the _hell_ kind of bullshit move is he trying to pull here? Wonwoo can’t look away, and once the deed has been done, Minghao rushes forward to reward Mingyu with an infinite stream of high fives. As Mingyu walks back into the circle, Wonwoo finds himself shamelessly wishing he could see those chest pumps again. _No, Jeon Wonwoo, pure thoughts. That’s your friend. Your friend who you hate. Snap out of it._

When Mingyu’s hand comes to rest on his shoulder, Wonwoo’s scared he’s been thinking outside his head again, but that’s not what Mingyu has to talk about. “Hyung,” he says in a low voice, breath hot against Wonwoo’s ear. Wonwoo suddenly becomes acutely aware of the firm chest pressed up against his arm. “You were awesome.”

Wonwoo nods smugly, not turning to throw so much as a glance at the face so dangerously close to his own. He holds his breath until Mingyu backs away, releasing it only when they all begin the walk home, each guy going in his respective direction. When Wonwoo makes it back to his house, he flops down on the couch, burying his face in the cushions. _Listen well, Kim Mingyu. I will not succumb_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOO this chapter took a while but it's a little longer so hopefully that makes up for it?? anyway it's good to finally have all the lads here. i wanted to include minghao as mingyu's hype man at all costs since they mentioned in ofd that they get along really well, and i promise this concept will be back in full(er) swing in later chapters. also, if you haven't seen wonwoo's body roll i suggest you get on that because Oh Man. anyway, thanks for reading and sticking with me, and as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!!!


	5. Chapter 5

“So, I was talking to Seokmin yesterday,” Soonyoung begins as they make their way out of the front gates and down the sidewalk, heading home after a long day of classes, “and I said it’s fine if he and the rest of the guys come to Jeonghan’s birthday party. Is that okay?”

“When are you _not_ talking to Seokmin?” Jun asks tiredly. It’s been just about a week since Wonwoo’s group of friends collided with Mingyu’s, and ever since that afternoon, Soonyoung and Seokmin have essentially been joined at the hip. Wonwoo and the rest of his friends have no idea how they even manage to spend so much time together, and something about it is vaguely concerning. “You guys are practically married at this point.”

“I’m not going to say no,” Jeonghan says, “but if I did, I’m pretty sure Seokmin would somehow spontaneously materialize anyway. I think there’s some fundamental law of physics that says you guys have to be in the same place at all times.”

“Awesome,” Soonyoung says with a wide smile, ignoring the jabs. “I’m excited. It’s gonna be so much fun.”

“Yeah... Anyway, about you and Seokmin—“

“SOON!” The loud call from a short ways down the sidewalk cuts Jihoon’s question off prematurely. The group turns to see none other than the very same Seokmin they’ve been speaking about waiting a few yards away with that notorious grin splitting his face. Soonyoung breaks into a merry skip, leaving the rest of the boys behind to join his other half.

“SEOK!” he cries gleefully, falling into Seokmin’s arms.

“How was your day, honey?” he asks in a distinctly middle-aged fashion.

“Oh, dear, it was so rough,” Soonyoung says with an exaggerated sigh, and the pair immediately collapses into giggles once he gets the last word. Swinging their arms around each other’s shoulders, they turn and start their walk away. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow!” Soonyoung calls back as the distance between him and his friends increases, the larger group standing still at the shock of being so suddenly abandoned. Jihoon turns to the rest of the guys with a scowl on his face, bitter at having been so rudely interrupted.

“They’re definitely married,” he says sourly. “That cad didn’t even invite us to the damn wedding.” Jun pats him on the shoulder, a thin smile playing at his lips.

“I think we’ll be okay.”

After a long and rambunctious walk home consisting almost exclusively of conversation about Soonyoung and Seokmin, Wonwoo collapses tiredly onto his bed. Something about Soonyoung’s budding relationship with Seokmin has him pissed off past the point of making sense, and he’s even more pissed because he can’t really figure out what it is. Just when a headache starts to set in, his brain runs a sentence by him that pulls him straight into an upright position: _Why the hell is it so easy for him?_

“What is _that_ supposed to mean?” Wonwoo asks himself, frustrated. Why is _what_ so easy for _whom_? _Soonyoung, obviously_. Wonwoo sits still, trying to piece together the meaning behind the words his brain conjured up. Why is it so easy for Soonyoung? What is “it”? _“It” is expressing his feelings_. Why is it so easy for Soonyoung to express his feelings?

“Bullshit,” Wonwoo grunts loudly, dissatisfied with his own thoughts. _I express my feelings just fine! What do I have to express, even, that would give me trouble?_

“I hope I didn’t just hear the word I think I heard.” The voice of Wonwoo’s mother drifts into his room, sounding alarmingly close to the door. Wonwoo hadn’t even realized she was home yet.

“I said Vulpix, mom. You know, my favorite Pokemon.”

“Oh, did you,” she asks from her position on the other side of the door, incredulity dripping from her words. “My ears must be going.”

“Well, I didn’t wanna have to be the one to tell you…”

“Alright, that’s enough,” she responds, knocking a fist on the door. “I’m heading out to run a few errands now. Do you need anything?”

“No, not really.” He listens for her acknowledgement and receding footsteps, calling out a bright “Have a safe trip!” once he hears the front door open. After a few minutes’ assurance of his mother’s absence, he falls back into his previous line of thought.

Why is it so easy for Soonyoung to express his feelings? And what does that mean, that Wonwoo is jealous of him for it? _What’s there to be jealous of?_ It can’t be because Soonyoung and Seokmin have basically merged into one being after barely knowing each other a week, yet Wonwoo still can’t even own up to his own feelings about Mingyu after over a month, right? _Whoa, wait a minute, who’s bringing up Mingyu?_ Well, Wonwoo, you’re the only one here. _No, shut up! There are no feelings for Mingyu to own up to!_ We both know that isn’t true. _I’m not in love with Kim Mingyu._ Who said anything about love? _Damn it_.

Wonwoo cradles his head in his heads after an intense internal debate with himself. Half of him is disturbed at having just performed both sides of an argument inside his head, but the other half is frustrated at having finally, in a way, admitted to the feelings for Mingyu he’s been trying to keep suppressed since almost day one. After all that valiant struggling, he’s ended up in the same old spot, with feelings that he doesn’t want for a guy who certainly won’t return them.

The worst part is having to admit his friends were right the whole time; there’s no way in hell that he’s going to tell them they were. The overabundant physical contact, the handsome features. Wonwoo was head over heels before he even knew what was coming. Even the terrible jokes have a certain charm, but Wonwoo can’t say it doesn’t irk him that his friends find Mingyu’s jokes hilarious when they’re the same level of bad as his own. And that smile, that ridiculous smile. Maybe that’s what had him from the beginning.

It’s that smile that greets Wonwoo again the next morning when he walks into home economics. He hasn’t had another run-in with that strange girl, but he can still feel her eyes boring into him every single class. With the not-so-fresh realization and very-fresh admission of his feelings toward a certain class partner, the stress he feels not to do anything incriminating today is nearly doubled. This in mind, he sternly withholds the smile that naturally attempts to spring to his lips when he sees Mingyu’s.

“Morning, hyung,” Mingyu says cheerfully, resting a hand on Wonwoo’s arm and giving it a light squeeze. Has he done this before? Wonwoo suddenly can’t remember, and he’s starting to sweat from the pressure coming from the keen set of eyes a couple rows back, so to be safe, he flicks Mingyu’s hand off immediately. Mingyu raises his eyebrows, evidently confused, but Wonwoo keeps his face set. Maybe that was a little too much, but it’s not like he can go back and undo it. “So, are you excited for Jeonghan-hyung’s party next Friday?”

“Sure,” Wonwoo says with a heavy sigh. He can already feel that the party is going to get way out of hand, but it’s not like he can just _not_ go to celebrate the birthday of his close friend of many years. As much as he would like to hope it’s going to be fine, his gut has never been wrong about this before. Mingyu’s eyebrows knit together.

“Are you okay with me going?” The subtle hint of nervousness in his voice is all too evident to Wonwoo’s ears.

“Even if I didn’t want you there, it’s not like I can stop you from showing up,” Wonwoo points out. “It’s Jeonghan’s party.”

“Yeah, but if you don’t want me to go—”

“Mingyu, please,” Wonwoo says, unwilling to hear the end of the sentence. “Don’t be like this.” It’s driving him nuts to have Mingyu be so weirdly considerate, especially when he’s obviously completely misunderstanding the situation. Before he can explain, though, Mr. Park’s gruff voice is cutting through the stagnant air of the room. Much to the surprise of every student, he is actually in the classroom before the bell; however, to their dismay, he apparently believes the period starts whenever he wills it, and is already beginning his teaching for the day despite the bell not having rung yet.

“So next week, we’re having our first really big project,” he grumbles, nodding his head vigorously and sending flashes of light into the poor eyes of innocent students. “You all will,” he begins, but is cut off by the ringing of the bell, leading him to tap his foot in irritation. _That’s what you get for starting too early, you old curmudgeon._

“As I was _saying_ ,” he says angrily, as if the bell was some noisy kid who cut him off, “our first big project is starting next week. Starting next Monday and continuing until the following Monday, you and your partner will be responsible for taking care of a little bundle of joy. Don’t worry, no old-fashioned flour sacks. The school board went the whole nine yards to get you kids the high-tech ones that cry and poop and act like actual babies.” _Not old-fashioned? In what way is this fake baby project not old-fashioned?_ “Next Monday, you will be receiving your babies, and the following Monday, you will be returning them to me along with a three-page report detailing your experience with the baby and describing how it impacted you. This is a sizeable chunk of your grade for the quarter, so I advise you not to blow it off.” He picks up a stack of papers printed with the rubric for the project and passes them out one by one to each student in the class, taking an agonizingly long time to perform a task that could be accomplished in twenty seconds. Once he finishes, he returns to the front of the classroom to add something. “And I don’t want to hear any griping about having to be a parent with your partner. It’s only one week. You’ll get over it. Now, today we’re going to discuss…” Wonwoo doesn’t pay much attention after that.

Great. A damn fake baby. Of course he would have to do that in this bullshit class. Of course it would be next week, too. What a nice overlap with Jeonghan’s birthday bash. Potentially, he could use this as an excuse to skip out, but knowing his friends, they’ll just make him bring the shitty fake baby to the party, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t know his friends. He exhales for a long while, enthusiasm draining from its already empty pool. He glances over to see Mingyu smiling excitedly and poring over the rubric, and the second Mingyu turns his eyes to face him, he can’t help but let another long breath slip out. Next week is going to feel like a year.

When they leave class, Mingyu doesn’t loop his arm around Wonwoo like usual. He’s partially relieved, unsure if he’ll be able to deal with Mingyu’s overabundant physical contact while having his newly-admitted feelings in tow, but he can’t help getting anxious at the same time. Isn’t this the first time Mingyu’s ever acted like a normal person? _Is he upset? No, he wouldn’t be upset. He’s Kim Mingyu. What’s going on?_

“See you later,” Mingyu mumbles before walking past Wonwoo to get to his class, usual smile notably absent from his face. Wonwoo shuffles into his own classroom with his stomach already beginning to knot in worry. Did he do something? There’s no way, right? He’s acted the same as usual today. Or is paranoia about accidentally letting his feelings for Mingyu slip manifesting itself in the form of harsher treatment? That can’t be. He _did_ brush Mingyu’s hand off earlier, but that was just one thing. Or maybe Mingyu’s not acting differently at all and his paranoia is instead manifesting itself in the form of _thinking_ he is. Wonwoo’s head is starting to hurt.

“You alright, man?” Jisoo asks after an awkward moment of watching Wonwoo massage his temples.

“Yeah, just a headache.”

“Are you _sure_ it’s just a headache?” Seungcheol asks warily. “Because it kinda seems like—”

“ _It’s just a headache,_ ” Wonwoo asserts forcefully. “Please stop asking.” For once, his friends take a hint and let him be, even taking extra care to talk quietly so they don’t make his headache worse. After the peaceful passage of the period, Wonwoo’s thoughts have started to calm down, and he’s certain that everything is actually fine and his brain has just been playing tricks on him this morning.

This mindset only lasts until lunch, though, because Mingyu seats himself on the opposite side of the table next to Jihoon, at the very end of the row of boys and in the farthest possible spot from Wonwoo. Wonwoo almost gapes in disbelief, but stops himself when he realizes what a telling gesture that would be. He leans over to Soonyoung and whispers in his ear.

“Mingyu is sitting next to Jihoon, right? I’m not hallucinating, am I?”

“You are not,” Soonyoung confirms in a whisper too loud for Wonwoo’s liking. “Does that bother you?” he asks with a knowing grin. Wonwoo leans back promptly and fixes him with a cold gaze.

“Of course not,” he lies. Soonyoung is very evidently unconvinced, but it doesn’t matter. Soonyoung is never convinced of anything contrary to what he already thinks he knows. He turns his attention wholly to his lunch, blocking out Soonyoung and Mingyu completely to focus on the sandwich in front of him. _Fine, Mingyu. Sit wherever you want. I don’t care_. Even though he says this to himself, it doesn’t stop him from being slightly miffed for all of lunch.

When he heads to his locker that afternoon, Wonwoo is surprised to see a well-known tall figure standing in front of it. “Kim Mingyu,” he calls as he nears, forcing the locker blocker to look up. “I’ll have you know my locker is my temple, and you are currently a heretic barring me from entry.” Mingyu offers a subdued smile as he moves out of Wonwoo’s way.

“Are you mad at me, hyung?” he asks suddenly, and Wonwoo nearly drops a textbook on his foot. This guy certainly doesn’t beat around the bush.

“Why would I be?” Wonwoo asks cautiously, eyeing Mingyu from the side. “Did you do something that I _should_ be mad about?”

“I don’t think so, but sometimes you don’t know, you know?” Wonwoo raises his eyebrows skeptically. “It’s just the vibe I’m getting, so…”

“I have no reason to be mad at you,” Wonwoo interrupts, “so I’m not. Don’t stress yourself out.”

“Really?” Mingyu asks, voice halfway to sounding hopeful.

“Yes, really. Stop being such a goon and cheer up.” The words have their desired effect on Mingyu: he brightens immediately into his trademark smile.

“Ahhh, thank goodness,” he says, sounding incredibly relieved. “I’m really glad you’re not, because we’re technically married starting next Monday, and I wasn’t sure how well that was gonna work out.”

“Shit, you’re right.” Wonwoo had almost forgotten in the midst of his daily brooding, but the hell project is still coming up.

“I know this is getting kinda far into the future, but do you think you’ll be free next Saturday so we can write the report early and get it out of the way?”

“I know I’ll be free. I never leave my house.”

“Sweet!” Mingyu cheers excitedly. “Then I guess we’ll be meeting at your house to write a report on our precious child next Saturday.” He gives Wonwoo a bright smile and a thumbs up, and Wonwoo’s heart clenches for a moment. _Now’s no time to get excited, Wonwoo. You’ll have to make it through next Friday first._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woohoo! here it is and thank you for reading! i'm gonna try to get the next chapter out asap because we're really getting somewhere now, but don't hold me to anything. this story could potentially wrap up in just a few chapters, but it could also potentially continue on for a ton more, so if you're a devoted reader with a strong opinion either way, feel free to tell me all about it in the comments! thanks for sticking with me thus far and i hope you've been enjoying it!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wonwoo becomes a dad just in time for the party.

The fake baby is just as terrible as Wonwoo had anticipated. All it does is eat and cry and poop, which is exactly what a real baby does, but this baby has no adorable face or chubby cheeks to redeem it, and Wonwoo certainly doesn’t have any parental attachment. It’s decided that he’ll take the thing around with him today, and then starting tomorrow, he and Mingyu will alternate days. Of course, the whole happy family will gather during home economics and lunch every day. It’s barely been an hour, and Wonwoo is already exhausted. When he strolls into lit class with the baby in tow after bidding farewell to his temporary husband in the hallway, he’s greeted by exaggerated crows from his friends.

“Come here, come say hi to Uncle Soonie!” Soonyoung says enthusiastically, extending his hands toward the decoy child in Wonwoo’s arms. Wonwoo lays it gently in Soonyoung’s grasp, and he immediately begins rocking it back and forth. “Aw, you’re so cute,” he croons to the baby, despite the fact that it can’t hear on account of not actually being alive. “You look just like your father… Fathers. Both of them.” He turns a cheesy grin to Wonwoo, who only raises his eyebrows.

“So, what’s the kid’s name?” Seungcheol asks as he watches Soonyoung continue rocking it. “I trust it’s something badass, like Thunder or Doomsday.”

“Well, we were calling him Gary—”

“Gary?” Jeonghan asks incredulously, tearing his eyes from the fake kid to look at Wonwoo in disbelief. “Please, Wonwoo. Please do not do that to this kid. I don’t care if he’s not real. I just…” He lowers his face into his hands. “Gary is such a bad name.”

“Like I was _saying_ ,” Wonwoo says with a pointed glare in Jeonghan’s direction even though he’s too busy staring into his hands to notice, “we _were_ calling him Gary. But we aren’t anymore. We decided on a better, more fitting name, so now we’re calling him Garbage Dump.”

“You’re calling the baby Garbage Dump,” Jisoo repeats blankly, looking into Wonwoo’s eyes in hopes of finding a denial. Wonwoo just stares back with a thin smile. “I can’t believe you would call a baby that, even if it is fake. He’s just a baby.”

“I think it’s a good name,” Jihoon asserts with a wide smile and nod of approval, shaking Wonwoo’s hand.

“See, someone agrees. Plus, it’s not like I would actually name my own _real_ child Garbage Dump.”

“Well, I might,” Jihoon admits. Jun interjects when he sees Jisoo’s look of horror, throwing his hands up defensively before Jihoon falls under fire.

“Why Garbage Dump, anyway?” Jisoo’s expression quells, another hint of sense finally detected within the group. “Why not just Garbage?” Jisoo’s forehead makes a loud smack as it hits the desk. Jihoon pats his shoulder sympathetically, laughter threatening to burst from his lips at any moment.

“Well, we thought about that,” Wonwoo muses, “but it just didn’t capture the depth of our feelings for the little guy, so we went with full on Garbage Dump instead.”

“Charming,” Jun says with a smile. “You two make a great pair of dads.”

“You’re all monsters,” Jisoo groans, face still planted firmly on the surface of his desk.

“Hellhound,” Seungcheol says suddenly, snapping his fingers.

“Excuse me?” Soonyoung asks with a gasp. “Watch your language in front of Garby.”

“You should have named him Hellhound,” Seungcheol tells Wonwoo, ignoring Soonyoung’s weird attachment to the kid. “That would have been so cool.”

“Why are you so weird?” Wonwoo asks genuinely. Before Seungcheol can formulate a response, Wonwoo diverts his attention to Soonyoung, prying the doll out of his unwilling hands. “Alright, Uncle Soonie, I think you’ve had him for long enough.” He settles Garbage Dump in his lap. “And please, never call my son Garby again.”

After class, the group heads to lunch, still unable to stop talking about sweet baby Garbage Dump. When the get to the cafeteria and spot Mingyu, he turns immediately and begins running at them with open arms.

“There’s my little Garbage Dump!” he cries, scooping the baby out of Wonwoo’s arms and into his own. Jisoo nearly collapses, last hopes that Wonwoo was just pulling his leg dashed. He drops all his weight onto the seat once he reaches the table, attempting to block out all the voices around him as they call for Garbage Dump.

“Speaking of sweet little Garbage Dump,” Mingyu begins, making Jisoo flinch, “I really don’t think that he should be at the party on Friday, and we have to keep an eye on him at all times, so…”

“That’s my day to have him,” Wonwoo picks up, “so I’ll just stay home.” Jeonghan’s hand shoots over and is immediately squeezing the hell out of Wonwoo’s shoulder, legendary vice-like grip making an appearance.

“Listen, Wonwoo,” Jeonghan says, smile disturbingly sweet in contrast with the pain budding in Wonwoo’s shoulder. “If you think I’m going to let you skip what may be the last of my birthday parties we spend together because of a fake baby named Garbage Dump, you are not just a dumbass, but the dumbest ass I know.” Wonwoo lets out a long sigh, trying not to let the pain from Jeonghan’s fingertips digging into him show on his face.

“I figured you would say that.” Jeonghan’s grip relaxes slightly, easing away fully only when Wonwoo says, “I’ll be there.”

“Good,” Jeonghan says, patting Wonwoo’s now-tender shoulder a little too roughly, “because it’s going to be fun. And you’re going to have fun.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Wonwoo says, unconvinced. Love Jeonghan though he does, he’d really rather just stay home. The older they’ve gotten, the more tiring the parties have become, which means Friday’s shindig is guaranteed to be the most exhausting of all. Coupled with the fact that he’ll have to bring Garbage Dump along, there’s no feasible way he actually will have any fun, but he’s going to pretend he is anyway to appease his friend.

“Now that that’s settled,” Jeonghan says with a warm grin, “we can start talking details. My parents told me that they’re leaving Friday afternoon to go to a concert out of town, so they won’t be back until Saturday night, and my sister is staying at a friend’s house, so we basically have the whole house to ourselves for the party.”

“Why are your parents so cool?” Jun asks, but Jeonghan just shrugs.

“I have no idea, but I thank them for it every day.”

“So what time should we come over?” Seungcheol asks, excitement evident in his tone.

“Maybe like seven? I don’t wanna kick things off too early and get everybody tired out before midnight.” _Five hours. Christ almighty_. Wonwoo knows for a fact he’ll be tired before then, and he’s already trying to figure out how soon after midnight he’ll be able to convince Jeonghan to let him leave. “I’m gonna need a few people to come over early to help get stuff ready, though.”

“You can count me in,” Jun says quickly. “And I’ll bring Jihoonie with me.” He bursts into melodic laughter as a small fist slams into his ribs. Wonwoo looks sympathetically at Jihoon, his only friend with a hatred for social gatherings that rivals his own. Volunteered to show up early, no less. Wonwoo almost feels pangs in his heart when he thinks about how miserable Jihoon is going to be on Friday, but they’re quelled when he realizes that all the excess frustration will probably be taken out on Jun. With a glance at Jun’s laughing face, Wonwoo figures he probably won’t mind.

“So who exactly is coming?” Soonyoung asks after Jun’s laughter dies down. Wonwoo notices with alarm that Garbage Dump has somehow found his way back into Uncle Soonie’s loving arms, and moves immediately to reclaim him.

“All of us, obviously, and all of Mingyu’s friends.” Jeonghan strokes his chin thoughtfully, eyes turned toward the ceiling. “Maybe… some other people? I think?”

“What do you mean, ‘you think’?” Jihoon grumbles. “It’s your party, isn’t it? Shouldn’t you _know_ who’s going to—”

“Shhh, calm down,” Jun interrupts, placing his hand firmly over Jihoon’s mouth. “You’ll be okay. Please stop biting me.” Wonwoo can’t help but note how eerily calm Jun’s face is for a man who is being bitten.

“I’m looking forward to it,” Mingyu says, and Wonwoo holds back a sigh. _You’ve got no idea what you’re in for_.

“As you should be!” Jeonghan assures him with a pat on the back. “You’re finally going to experience _real_ fun!”

Friday rolls around much too quickly for Wonwoo’s taste. Dread has already settled in the pit of his stomach from the very moment he wakes up in the morning, and its potency increases exponentially with each passing minute. By the time he’s made it to home economics, he wishes that he would just somehow fall asleep without warning and not wake up until tomorrow.

“Hey, honey,” Mingyu says casually as he slides into his seat. “Here’s your son.” Wonwoo’s heart tightens a little, but he tries to ignore it. Mingyu’s been calling him pet names all week because of the assignment, and as much as Wonwoo has tried to steel himself to it, it still gets him a little every time. _It’s only because we’re pretend married. Don’t get excited._ Mingyu passes little baby Garbage Dump over, swapping custody for the day. “Are you jazzed for the party?” he asks with a wide smile, exposing all those charming teeth as he’s been known to do.

“Sure, grandpa, I’m super _jazzed_. It’s going to be a real _hootenanny_.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Mingyu begins, “but are you perhaps mocking my use of the word ‘jazzed’?”

“I have no clue what gives you that idea,” Wonwoo snorts. Mingyu rests a sympathetic hand on his shoulder.

“I know it’s tough, Wonwoo, but someday you’re just going to have to accept that you will never be as hip and happening as I am.” As Mingyu finishes speaking, Garbage Dump bursts into his fit of robotic tears.

“He’s crying because he knows you’re lying,” Wonwoo explains. “Babies are a lot more perceptive than most people give them credit for. I think our Garbage Dump is a prodigy.”

“No, no, don’t misunderstand. He’s crying because he’s being held by his least favorite dad, who also happens to be a total square.” Mingyu pats Garbage Dump’s still-crying face reassuringly. “Anyway, how are we even going to keep an eye on him at the party?”

“I’ll just chill with him the whole time,” Wonwoo says, rocking the doll back into silence. “I just hope he doesn’t annoy anybody else. If he does, though, I’ll just blame Jeonghan.”

“Hm,” Mingyu hums, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “That isn’t going to work, hyung, because then you won’t have any fun.”

“Trust me, Mingyu, I—”

“I’ll figure something out tonight,” he says with a thumbs-up. Mr. Park stalls any further conversation with his sudden entrance, and Wonwoo dedicates the entire next hour of his life to sighing in exasperation.

It feels like just the blink of an eye and the school day is already over, Soonyoung and Seokmin walking off arm in arm as the rest of the group watches them go in what has become some kind of bizarre after-school ritual. Once the pair is out of sight, the rest of the group ambles along until they eventually split off to go in their own directions. Wonwoo lugs his son back to his house, where he sits on the couch and stares at the wall for thirty minutes. He’s pulled out of his reverie only when the baby’s programmed pooping sound reaches his ears.

“I hate you so much,” he whispers as he retrieves a change of diaper. “And I know you’re going to want me to feed you in 10 minutes, right? No use in arguing. I know it’s going to happen.” Wonwoo stares blankly at Garbage Dump for a full minute after the diaper has been changed, brows furrowed in frustration. “I’m talking to a doll,” he announces with a heavy sigh, walking back to lie down on the couch. Roughly ten minutes later, much to Wonwoo’s expectation, Garbage Dump whines for food. With a groan, he rises to feed the baby as quickly as possible and reclaims his position to take a nap before the party. It’s guaranteed he’ll be exhausted within one hour of its commencement, and he knows he won’t be allowed to leave until late, so he needs all the rest he can get right now.

A few hours later, he wakes up and blinks groggily at the clock. 6:18. If he gets up now, he’ll have plenty of time to get ready and make it to Jeonghan’s house right at seven. _Maybe I can just rest for a little longer and arrive fashionably late._ Well, Wonwoo’s never been the type for fashionable lateness, so he heaves himself up from his spot deep in the cushions and starts getting ready.

He hasn’t thought up until now he needs to try to look good for this party, but for some reason, he’s suddenly got a nagging feeling in his gut that he _really_ needs to look good, and as much as he may not even care to attend, he also knows there’s no occasion where looking too good is a mistake. With this in mind, he spends twenty minutes selecting an outfit and styling his hair, taking a satisfied look in the mirror once he’s done. He’s got on dark jeans, light brown cap-toes, and a dark gray button-down that he _knows_ looks amazing on him, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He messes with his hair for a little bit longer, making sure just the right amount of forehead is showing, then gathers up a quick bag of baby supplies he’ll probably need throughout the night and takes his leave with Garbage Dump in tow.

“Damn, Wonwoo,” is the first thing he hears when he walks through Jeonghan’s front door just a minute early. “You have to change. I can’t have you looking better than me at my own party.” The birthday boy pats him on the shoulder. “But seriously, you look good.”

“Yeah, you _do_ look good,” Jun muses. “Alarmingly so. I’m sure this can’t have anything to do with _Mingyu,_ right?” Wonwoo just rolls his eyes.

“Where are the rest of the guys, anyway?” he asks, ignoring the accusation. “It’s practically party time already.”

“You know those guys,” Jihoon says with an irritated sort of fondness. “They’re never on time. I’m sure they’re coming.” As if on cue, Soonyoung practically kicks the door off its hinges and strolls in with Seokmin on his arm.

“The party has arrived,” the pair says in obviously-planned unison, cheesy grins splitting their faces. “Damn, Wonwoo,” they say in unison again once they lay eyes on him, turning to each other with wide eyes and gaping mouths once they realize their unintended chorus; Wonwoo has trouble looking at the couple when they’re being so corny. He’s saved from having to do so when Seungcheol bursts through the door, both arms completely overtaken with shopping bags.

“I brought alcohol!” He proclaims excitedly, offering an enthusiastic thumbs-up to all the guys in the room.

“We’re underage!” Wonwoo cries in alarm, flailing his arms and trying not to drop his baby. “That’s illegal!” He doesn’t have time to worry about that though, because a sizable crowd of at least ten people walks through the door at that moment, and at its back is none other than Kim Mingyu.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woohoo! i appreciate everyone's patience! every time i say i'm gonna be quick, i actually end up being slower. WHOOPS! anyway, the next chapter is definitely something you all do not want to miss (i promise), so stay tuned :-) as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeonghan's party has officially arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so i like just realized jun is the only one i've been using a stage name for... whoops. for continuity's sake, we're stuck with jun this time. ALSO there is underage drinking in this chapter, which i would just like to clarify i DO NOT condone. but yeah, it's there

He looks good. He looks _too_ good. He’s wearing a pair of black pants, gray suede boots that come up to his ankles, and a long cream sweater with a wide neck, sleeves pushed back to his elbows. To top it off, he’s got his hair parted, and Wonwoo has to take a moment to get his heart to calm down. He doesn’t know how long he’s been staring, but when he sees Mingyu turn his way with that dazzling smile, he becomes acutely aware that it has definitely been for too long.

“You look good, hyung,” is the first thing that comes out of his mouth when he’s near enough.

“I know,” Wonwoo clips, struggling to look at Mingyu over the brightness of that smile. “You don’t look so bad yourself.” Mingyu laughs quietly, resting a hand on Wonwoo’s shoulder.

“What a Wonwoo response,” he says with a grin. His hand feels a little bit too warm to Wonwoo, but as much as he would like to say he wants to shake it off, he can’t deny that it feels nice. “So, why is Seungcheol making such a ruckus?” Wonwoo is forced to ignore the fact that Mingyu just said the word ‘ruckus’ because he is reminded that Seungcheol has just brought alcohol to a party where there are absolutely _zero_ attendees who can legally drink it.

“Seungcheol,” he yells stiffly, causing all the nearby boys to jump a little bit in surprise. Seungcheol turns around, the wide smile plastered on his face faltering when he sees the sharpness of Wonwoo’s glare. “Where did you get alcohol, and why did you bring it to a party made up completely of underage kids?”

“Who are you, my dad?” he asks coolly, shrugging off Wonwoo’s hard gaze. “What’s with all the questions? It’s called _having fun_ , Wonwoo. You should try it out.”

“It’s called _illegal_ , Seungcheol. What if a cop shows up? How are you going to explain that?”

“We’ll cross that bridge if and when we come to it,” Seungcheol states matter-of-factly, giving Wonwoo a thumbs up that doesn’t make him feel any better. He throws a hand in the air.

“What kind of—”

“I get where you’re coming from,” Jeonghan interrupts, placing his hand gently on Wonwoo’s back, “but I think it’ll be fine. If anything goes wrong, I’ll blame it entirely on Seungcheol.”

“How is that fair?” Seungcheol whines, punching Jeonghan on the arm. “I’m not responsible for what other people do!”

“Well, if you didn’t want to be responsible for the alcohol, you shouldn’t have brought it,” Jeonghan says with a sly smile. “You should just be glad this is _my_ party and not Wonwoo’s, because you would probably be talking to a cop right now.” Seungcheol is about to respond when another rush of people bursts noisily through the front door. Jeonghan raises his eyebrows at the bunch. “I don’t think I know any of them.”

“Please tell me I misheard you just now,” Jihoon begs. “Tell me you do not have strangers showing up at your own house for your birthday party.”

“Looks like they brought some beverages as well,” Jeonghan muses, completely ignoring Jihoon’s plea. Jun rubs his shoulder reassuringly. “I’m still blaming anything bad that happens on Seungcheol, though.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“An asshole that loves you.”

“Don’t steal my line,” Jisoo says, materializing out of nowhere and scaring the shit out of everyone. “I’ll sue you.”

“Where the hell did you even come from?” Jeonghan asks incredulously. “I’ve been watching the front door like a hawk.” When Jisoo just smiles knowingly instead of answering, Jeonghan shakes his head. “You seem so normal from the outside, but you are the weirdest of all of us.” Jisoo clutches his chest at the blow, but the smile doesn’t slip from his face. Shortly after, the first song on the party playlist specially crafted by Soonyoung blares through the speakers.

“Well,” Jeonghan shouts over the beat, “I guess it’s party time!” He shuffles with a rhythmic gait into the main room of the house, where the lights have already been turned off, and the rest of the group follows close behind, leaving Wonwoo alone with Garbage Dump and Mingyu.

“Not much of a drinker?” Mingyu asks, yelling to ensure Wonwoo can hear him over the excessively loud music.

“I am a man of the law,” Wonwoo yells back. Mingyu nods understandingly then yells something back, but Wonwoo cannot figure out what it is for the life of him, so he just shakes his head. Mingyu leans in, lips nearly grazing Wonwoo’s ear.

“I figured out a way for you to be able to have fun,” he says, but Wonwoo can’t focus on anything but the hot breath hitting his ear and the almost nonexistent distance between their faces. “We can take turns watching Garbage Dump, so for the first hour…” He continues on for a minute, but Wonwoo is too focused on how close their cheeks are to touching to pay attention. When the words start to sink in, though, he reaches up to place a firm hand on Mingyu’s chest to stop him from speaking. He gulps before leaning around to talk into Mingyu’s ear, much too conscious of their nearness and contact.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says. “I don’t mind watching him the whole night. Today’s my day anyway.” Mingyu turns to argue, but Wonwoo stops him. “Seriously. I would rather just hang out with Garbage Dump. I’ll be pissed if you try to take him from me.” Mingyu raises his eyebrows skeptically, but Wonwoo just pats his chest and nods. With a squeeze to Wonwoo’s shoulder, he slips away to join the rest of the crowd dancing in the dark room.

Now Wonwoo sits alone in the kitchen, staring dully at the various people coming in to get drinks, since that’s all that seems to be in here. He sees more strange faces come in than familiar ones, and he’s starting to think that the number of people at the party is increasing by the minute. It’s almost ten o’clock, Garbage Dump has cried five times, and the only company he’s had all night is Chan, the sole partygoer aside from himself who won’t drink, who sat and talked with him for half an hour before returning to the chaos. After another short while of giving icy glares to anyone who dares walk into the kitchen to grab a drink, Chan reappears in the doorway.

“Hey, we’re about to play truth-or-dare upstairs if you want to come. It’s just gonna be all the guys, I think.”

“Truth-or-dare? How old is Jeonghan turning, twelve?” Wonwoo asks, but he gets up to follow Chan anyway, baby in tow. He may as well go join in on _some_ activity so Jeonghan doesn’t think he just went home.

“Oh, hey, Wonwoo,” Jeonghan says with a calm grin and hazy eyes once they arrive upstairs. “I thought you just went home.”

“Of course I didn’t,” Wonwoo scoffs. “Can I, though? Because I really—”

“Of course you can’t, dickhead,” Jeonghan says, grabbing his arm with a brute force unaffected by inebriation. “Sit down, we’re playing truthy-dare.” Wonwoo sighs deeply, lowering himself into the circle. Chan’s information has proven true, as only his and Mingyu’s friends have seats in the circle, but a few random girls sit at the edges of the room, eyes on the game about to begin. Their presence makes Wonwoo a little uncomfortable, like they’re intruding on the meeting of a club they don’t belong to, but there’s not really anything he can do about it, so he just holds onto his son and waits for the game of truth-or-dare to start.

A riveting round of rock-paper-scissors leads to Soonyoung being the first to choose his victim, which Jeonghan protests loudly on account of it being _his_ birthday and _his_ party, but to no avail, as Soonyoung has already selected his prey.

“Boo Seungkwan!” He shouts enthusiastically, pointing across the circle. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” Seungkwan declares proudly, slapping himself on the knee. Soonyoung rubs his chin thoughtfully.

“I dare you to do a handstand,” he says at last. Seungkwan stands up immediately, but before he launches into his task, he turns his eyes drearily back toward Soonyoung.

“I just remembered I can’t actually do a handstand,” he confesses. “Is there anything else I could do?”

“Well,” Soonyoung muses, “if you can’t do a handstand, you probably can’t do a backflip, so no. Just do the handstand.” Seungkwan lets out a long breath, resigned to his fate, before heaving himself onto his hands and maintaining a decent handstand position for all of one second before losing his balance and slamming onto the ground. Beside him, Hansol erupts in laughter, unable to calm himself for long enough to check whether his friend is injured. The rest of the room joins in with him, consumed by fits of loud cackling as they look upon Seungkwan’s fallen form; all but Wonwoo, who becomes increasingly more worried with every additional second Seungkwan spends lying motionless on the floor. _Please be okay, please be okay, please do not be unconscious._ Before too long, though, Seungkwan sits up with a groan and offers a weak thumbs up to the whole crowd, receiving a hearty round of applause in return.

“I did it,” Seungkwan says with pride, though the truth of the statement is dubious, a wide smile stretching his features. “My turn now.” He scans his eyes over the ring of boys, blinking dizzily a few times before settling his gaze. “Kim Mingyu,” he announces solidly. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” Mingyu says without hesitation, hitting the carpet with his fist for impact. Seungkwan nods and closes his eyes, taking a brief moment to think of a suitable dare.

“I dare you,” he says at last, “to kiss the best-looking person in this room.” Seokmin screams and slaps Soonyoung’s shoulder repeatedly, and all the girls sitting around the room’s edges sit forward eagerly, suddenly very invested in the game. Wonwoo groans internally. _Of course it’s going to be this kind of game_. He glances hesitantly at Mingyu, who looks deep in thought. _Is he deciding who’s the best-looking?_ Wonwoo gulps. Mingyu really does look unbelievably good tonight, and Wonwoo doesn’t know if he’ll be able to handle watching him kiss someone while looking that fine. After a prolonged pause of contemplation during which Seokmin finally calms down, Mingyu snaps his fingers and points back at Seungkwan.

“I don’t think he would let me,” he says at last, “so you have to give me another dare.” _Whoa._ Wonwoo takes another look at Mingyu to see if he’s joking, but if he is, there’s nothing showing on his face; he just stares placidly back at Seungkwan and waits for a new command.

“’He’?” Seungcheol asks after a few seconds, words finally sinking into his alcohol-muddled brain. “You like guys, Mingyu?”

“I love guys,” Mingyu answers immediately, tone all business. Wonwoo can’t tell if he’s just had too much to drink or if he’s normally this direct. He flicks his eyes over to Soonyoung, who is staring at him with a smug grin and raised eyebrows. _Told you so_ he mouths, and Wonwoo just rolls his eyes. _Once again, Kwon Soonyoung was right_. “I need a new dare,” Mingyu reminds Seungkwan impatiently.

“Okay, you snooze. I dare you to take a shot every time somebody dodges a dare.” Mingyu blinks slowly a few times.

“Yeah, I can do that.” He nods sagely, leaning back on his hands. The whole room waits quietly for him to pick his target, but he makes no indication that he’s going to do so.

“Mingyu, you have to pick someone now,” Jihoon says impatiently. Mingyu’s eyes widen.

“Oh yeah!” He takes a quick look at the faces around him. “Then, Wonwoo-hyung. Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” Wonwoo sighs heavily.

“Booooooo,” Jun calls from his spot beside Jihoon. “You’re so boring, Wonwoo. Do a dare. Then dodge it. I wanna see Mingyu take a shot.” Wonwoo isn’t surprised by the backlash, but he refuses to change his choice. Mingyu clears his throat dramatically.

“Are you having fun?” he asks with a bright smile and curious eyes. Wonwoo slouches tiredly. _What a Mingyu question._

“I’m having tons of fun,” he says dryly, and Mingyu doesn’t seem to buy it.

“You have to answer truthfully, hyung,” he says, pouting. Wonwoo can’t help but notice how adorable he is. “That’s why it’s called truth.”

“I _am_ telling the truth,” Wonwoo insists, just as unconvincing as he was with the last answer.

“But—”

“Don’t press him,” Jeonghan cuts in. “At least he’s pretending to have a good time.” Mingyu leans back unsatisfied, a disgruntled frown etched firmly into his features. “Your turn, Wonwoo,” Jeonghan continues, ignoring the now-sulking Mingyu. Wonwoo looks around at the faces of his friends, their eyes sparkling in irritation.

“Jihoon,” he says at last. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” Jihoon answers after a moment’s thought.

“Okay. I dare you to pick your least favorite person in the room…” He ponders a moment before deciding. “And punch them in the face.” Jihoon’s fist immediately flies in the direction of Jun’s face, but by some miracle, Jun catches his wrist before the blow lands.

“No, Jihoonie,” he says, and the fist struggles more violently to break free from Jun’s iron grip. “Dodge the dare. I want Mingyu to take a shot.” Jihoon furrows his brow as he tries even harder to make his punch connect, but evidently Jun is a lot stronger than he looks. Eventually, Jihoon concedes with a sigh.

“Fine, I pass. Give me a different dare,” he says in dejectedly, looking with sorrow at his poor fist, still yearning to achieve its purpose.

“Okay. Same dare, except the gut instead of the face.” Jihoon’s eyes light up immediately, and before anyone can stop him, he’s delivered a solid hit directly to Jun’s stomach, an entire night’s worth of bottled-up rage knocking the wind straight out of him. Soonyoung and Seokmin clutch each other tightly, hollering at the top of their lungs. Jun lies back on the ground gasping for breath, and once he has it back, he grabs Jihoon and pulls him down on top of him.

“You dick,” he wheezes. “Everybody knows I’m your favorite person in this room.”

“In what world?” Jihoon pushes against the ground with all his might, but Jun’s unforgiving embrace doesn’t allow for any budging. _Has Jun been going to the gym lately?_ “Hey, let me up. I have to pick the next person.”

“No,” Jun denies flatly. “You can pick from here. You know who’s in the circle. Mingyu has to take a shot first, anyway.” Jihoon flops down onto Jun without further argument, winding him once again.

“I’ll go get the booze,” Hansol says, rising to sprint down the stairs. In a flash, he’s back and pouring Mingyu a drink into a shot glass that looks a little too tall.

“Isn’t that a _double_ shot glass?” Wonwoo interjects, red flags going up in his brain.

“Is it? I don’t know.” Hansol shrugs, filling the glass all the way to the top anyway. Wonwoo’s jaw drops in disbelief. _How can you be so irresponsible?_ Hansol passes the glass over to Mingyu, and he downs it immediately, face scrunching up at the taste. The room erupts in cheers while Minghao slaps him roughly on the back and treats him to a barrage of high-fives. Once the noise level diminishes, Jun pats Jihoon on the head eagerly.

“Okay, okay, pick somebody,” he says, and Jihoon reaches back and swats his hand away.

“Minghao,” he calls flatly, “truth or dare?”

“Dare,” Minghao says with a wide smile, and Jun pumps his fist.

“Okay, I dare you to—”

Garbage Dump’s unruly wails cut Jihoon off in the middle of his command, and Wonwoo groans. _Stupid baby._ He turns around to grab his supply bag, but realizes with annoyance that he left it downstairs. Standing up from his seat on the floor, he starts toward the door.

“I’ll be right back,” he sighs. “I left my supply bag downstairs.”

“Do you want us to wait on you?” Jeonghan asks, but Wonwoo just shakes his head.

“Nah, it could take me a while, so just continue.”

“Wait, honey,” Mingyu wails, grabbing at Wonwoo’s ankle and making his heart skip a beat or two. “I should go, too. Help me up.”

“Hell no, Mingyu,” Jun snaps. “You aren’t allowed to leave.” Wonwoo kicks his hand off and continues toward the stairs.

“I’ll be back soon. It’s not a big deal.” Mingyu narrows his eyes and frowns, but Wonwoo goes down alone anyway, the sound of Garbage Dump’s continued whining keeping him company as he descends to the first floor.

When he makes it down, he notes that the party has thinned considerably, only a few people still lost in the groove in the dark living room. He enters the kitchen to find with relief that his bag is still exactly where he left it, and sets at work tending to Garbage Dump’s needs immediately. It’s a diaper change this time, which means he’s going to want food again in about fifteen minutes, so Wonwoo decides to just sit and wait it out downstairs. It’s relaxing in the kitchen; there’s no noise but the music coming from the next room, and the only people he sees are silhouettes through the kitchen entrance, making their way toward the front door to leave. After hearing Garbage Dump’s inevitable cry for food and feeding him, he sits for a while and enjoys the silence, forgetting his promise to return to the game. A sudden loud crash stirs his memory, and he rushes to the staircase to find Mingyu lying on his back at the bottom.

“Mingyu?” Wonwoo asks, surprised. _Did he make that crash just now?_ “Are you okay?”

“Hyung!” he cries, reaching his arms up excitedly, eyes shimmering. “There you are!” Something about his speech sounds a little off to Wonwoo, and a sense of unease pools in his stomach.

“How drunk are you?” he asks warily.

“Huh?” Mingyu says, face blank. He flaps his arms around wildly instead of answering. “Help me up.”

“Are you drunk?” Wonwoo asks, rephrasing the question.

“No, I’m Mingyu,” he says, giggling. “And you’re Wonwoo. Please pick me up.” Wonwoo sighs, reaching down to grab Mingyu’s arms and pull him to his feet. Once he’s on them, Wonwoo can plainly see that it’s a miracle he’s even standing. _Just how many dares did they pass?_ He looks at the clock to see that it’s barely past eleven. _Jeonghan is gonna have to get over it_.

“I’m taking you home,” he resolves.

“What? But I’m having so much fun,” Mingyu whines, smacking Wonwoo’s shoulder lightly.

“No arguing,” Wonwoo commands. “Wait here while I go upstairs to tell Jeonghan we’re leaving.” Mingyu huffs and crosses his arms, but stays in the same spot anyway. With a nod of approval, Wonwoo starts his journey upstairs.

He makes his way carefully up the steps, doing his best to pass Jun and Jihoon without disturbing them, but they’re far too busy forcing their mouths together to notice him at all. Wonwoo isn’t sure what’s so romantic about the staircase, but who is he to judge? If they want to be that uncomfortable, he won’t stop them. At the top of the stairs, he finds Seokmin and Soonyoung engaged in an intense game of patty-cake. He waddles past them to find that the game of truth-or-dare is still semi-going on with some of the remaining guys, but Jeonghan is notably absent from the room.

“Hey, where’s Jeonghan?” He asks Soonyoung when he comes back out into the hall.

“His room,” Soonyoung responds without breaking eye contact with Seokmin. Wonwoo waits for him to give a reason for the relocation, or any type of follow-up information at all, but all he hears is the slapping of the couple’s hands as they continue on in their infinite patty-cake.

He walks down the hall cautiously, creaking open the door to Jeonghan’s room only to find the lights off. _Was Soonyoung wrong?_ Just when he’s about to cut his losses and face Jeonghan’s wrath on Monday for leaving unannounced, he hears a voice come from within the blackness of the bedroom.

“Who is it?” It’s Jeonghan’s voice, and he sounds a little out of breath. “You can turn on the lights.” Wonwoo flips the light switch to see the birthday boy reclined on his bed and very much entangled with… Minghao? Wonwoo shakes his head. Now isn’t the time to worry about that.

“I know it’s not even midnight yet, but I’m gonna leave. I’m taking Mingyu home.” Maybe it’s just the alcohol, but Jeonghan doesn’t look even remotely upset. Instead, a strangely wide smile spreads across his face.

“Oh yeah! Get you some, Wonwoo!” he yells loudly. Minghao gives him a thumbs up too, accompanied by a congratulatory whoop, and Wonwoo doesn’t have the heart to correct them. At least he gets to leave early. “The lights!” Jeonghan calls after him as he pulls the door shut, and with a flick of his wrist, the room is bathed in darkness once again.

He passes the familiar scene of Seokmin and Soonyoung slapping each other’s hands with unbelievable coordination, and again scoots past Jun and Jihoon as they fuse their faces into one on the stairs. When he reaches the ground floor again, he finds with surprise that Mingyu is exactly where he left him, eyebrows furrowed impatiently.

“Finally!” he says. “It’s been like an hour!”

“It’s been like three minutes,” Wonwoo scoffs. “Do you have everything you came with?”

“Duh.”

“No need for the attitude. Let me get Garbage Dump and my stuff and we’ll go.” Once the necessary items are gathered, they embark on their journey.

Soon after they make it out to the sidewalk in front of Jeonghan’s house, Wonwoo realizes two problems. Firstly, there is no way Mingyu will be able to walk without leaning on him for support. Secondly, he has no idea where Mingyu lives.

“Hey, you big idiot,” he calls, and Mingyu turns his head slowly, a blatant lack of amusement displayed on his features. “Where do you live?”

“A house,” Mingyu declares smugly. _So this is how it’s going to be_.

“Mind telling me where that house is?”

“On a street.”

“What’s the name of that street?”

“Hmmm… What was it? It’s a super cool name.” Wonwoo sighs.

“Alright, I’m not playing this game with you. Follow me.”

“Whoo, where are we going?” Mingyu asks excitedly, stumbling after Wonwoo, who then realizes he needs to go back and offer support to his inebriated companion.

“My house,” Wonwoo replies, and Mingyu thrusts his fist into the night air with a hearty shout.

“Hyung’s house!” he yells far too loudly, doubtless bothering every one of Jeonghan’s neighbors. “Wonwoo-hyung’s house! Woohoo!” Wonwoo can’t stifle the groan that slides from his lips.

It’s going to be a long walk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally, i have been able to show my true colors as a jeonghao disaster. in other fun news, we have passed 20k words! woo! anyway, this chapter is a little longer than usual, but i hope you all enjoyed it! i know i always say this, but please look forward to the next chapter! i will continue to do my best, and as always, feedback is greatly appreciated. thanks for sticking with me and reading this far!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wonwoo brings Mingyu back home

“Hyung,” Mingyu calls for the billionth time, head resting sideways atop Wonwoo’s as he’s pulled along. Wonwoo sighs and adjusts his arm around Mingyu’s waist, struggling to find a more comfortable way to support his weight as they make their way down the sidewalk. As of right now, Wonwoo’s got an arm around Mingyu’s waist, and Mingyu’s got an arm around Wonwoo’s shoulders, and though they both shuffle their feet forward, the majority of the actual walking is being left to Wonwoo since he’s the only one who _can_ , so progress is unnervingly slow. Poor Garbage Dump was shoved into Wonwoo’s undersized bag long ago, and there he remains, Wonwoo’s arms fully employed in making sure Mingyu doesn’t kiss the concrete. “Hyung. Hyung. Wonwoo-hyung.”

“What?” Wonwoo huffs, shifting his hold on Mingyu again. It’s bad enough already that he has to lug Mingyu’s drunk ass all the way to his house in the middle of the night, but as an added bonus, Mingyu won’t stop trying to talk to him. Maybe if he weren’t so heavy and difficult to hold up, Wonwoo wouldn’t mind as much, but unfortunately, he is _very_ heavy and difficult to hold up, so Wonwoo does mind.

“Are we still going to your house?” he mumbles. Wonwoo resists the urge to abandon him on the side of the road.

“Yes,” he groans. Mingyu has easily asked that thirty times by now. “Stop asking me that.”

“Woohoo!” Mingyu shouts, ignoring Wonwoo’s request. “Hyung’s house!”

“Stop shouting right next to my ear, you moron.” Mingyu rolls his head down, bending his neck so his lips are immediately beside Wonwoo’s ear.

“Sorry,” he whispers. His breath is hot on Wonwoo’s ear, and it sends a chill up his spine. He walks on, waiting for Mingyu to move his head back, but he doesn’t, leaving his lips to brush lightly against Wonwoo’s ear as his head bobs with each step. Wonwoo tries to walk forward and pretend that it’s not even happening, but against his wishes, he feels his face grow steadily warmer in the cool night air. _Mingyu’s too drunk to notice. It’s fine._

“Hyung,” Mingyu murmurs, and Wonwoo nearly jumps out of his skin.

“Yes?” he responds, trying to act calm. _Shit! Did he find me out?_ Mingyu’s thumb starts moving in soft circles on his shoulder, and his breath catches in his throat. _In and out, in and out. Breathe, Wonwoo. Don’t think about it._ But how the _hell_ could he not think about it?

“You smell good,” Mingyu mumbles, voice much lower than usual.

“Oh, do I?” Wonwoo asks genuinely. He can’t imagine that he does. He’s starting to work up a sweat from the exertion of carrying his large companion, and it’s not like he put on a nice layer of cologne before going to the party. Mingyu sniffs, stirring some of Wonwoo’s hair.

“Yeah, you do,” he confirms. “You look good,” he adds on, nuzzling his face into Wonwoo’s neck.

“You already t—hey, knock it off—” Before Wonwoo can get another word out, the sound of Garbage Dump’s whining invades his ears. The might of all the world’s winds is released with his sigh. He had been hoping that Garbage Dump would keep quiet for the whole walk home, but of course life couldn’t be that easy. “Hey, get off,” he says, digging an elbow into Mingyu’s gut to push him away. Mingyu stumbles back unsteadily, and Wonwoo immediately feels a pang of guilt, but he’s too focused on silencing his baby to worry about it. Once he finishes consoling the child and restoring the quiet of the night, he looks over to see Mingyu sitting with his knees tucked up under his chin and his lips pushed out into a pout. Wonwoo lets out a long breath. He keeps his eyes on Mingyu, waiting for him to say something, but it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen any time soon.

“Something wrong?” he asks at length. Mingyu sniffs, shaking his head, but after a second of silence, he caves in, turning his frowning face to Wonwoo.

“Do you care about him more than me?” he asks, pointing at the fake baby in Wonwoo’s arms. Wonwoo raises his eyebrows in disbelief.

“Mingyu, you cannot be serious right now.” But Mingyu only presses his lips into a hard line, staring at Wonwoo with shining eyes. Wonwoo groans. “Don’t be like this.”

“Stop tellin’ me that!” Mingyu shouts, suddenly enraged.

“When did I—”

“You did,” Mingyu cuts in. “The other day in class, you did. And now again! Answer my question!” Mingyu’s voice is rising steadily, and Wonwoo’s getting a little anxious. They’re sitting on the sidewalk right in front of somebody’s house, which is probably suspicious enough on its own, but now that Mingyu is yelling, the level of dubiousness has increased exponentially. A car passes by, and Wonwoo can just make out the bewildered expression of the woman driving, her eyes locked on the pair as she continues forward, swerving to miss a mailbox. Wonwoo develops a growing fear that the residents of the home they’re currently in front of will call the cops, and how is he going to explain the presence of a drunk minor without Seungcheol as a scapegoat?

“Hey, calm down,” Wonwoo says in a hushed tone, holding his hands up defensively, but Mingyu doesn’t listen. “Mingyu!” he clips harshly, done trying to play the pacifist, and Mingyu’s mouth hangs limply, eyes widening. “Please be quiet. I will leave you here.” Mingyu’s eyes almost pop out of their sockets.

“You wouldn’t,” he says, voice wobbling. Tears threaten to push themselves forth. “You wouldn’t,” he repeats, wrapping his arms around his legs. “You wouldn’t. You wouldn’t, right? Right, hyung?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Wonwoo sighs, “I wouldn’t. But you need to be quiet.” He stuffs Garbage Dump back in his bag and pulls himself off the ground, walking over to offer Mingyu a hand. “Come on, get up. We need to go.” Mingyu takes hold but makes no move to get up, rubbing the back of Wonwoo’s hand with his thumb. He locks his eyes on Wonwoo’s fingers.

“Are you gonna answer me?” he asks quietly, never bringing his eyes up to meet Wonwoo’s. _Seriously?_

“Obviously, I don’t care about this fake baby more than you, Mingyu,” he says tiredly. This seems to be a good enough response for Mingyu, because he starts trying to pull himself up from the ground. He can’t, though, because he’s smashed off his ass, so Wonwoo has to lean down and pull him up. After sitting down, Mingyu is somehow even shakier on his feet, and Wonwoo prays that they can even make it the rest of the way back.

He’s always thankful that he doesn’t live too far from Jeonghan, but now especially. Mingyu stays pretty quiet for the rest of the walk, which is somewhat relieving, but Wonwoo feels like he’s clinging to him much more closely than before, and he wishes he could just go home and give himself some time to think and calm down. Of course, with Kim Mingyu as a plus one, that isn’t even close to an option.

The nearer they get to Wonwoo’s house, the more he realizes what a terrible, stupid idea it was to bring Mingyu home with him. What’s his mom going to say when she sees some strange guy she’s never met before inside her home? Scratch that, what’s she going to say when Wonwoo stumbles in the door this late at night with a drunk teen on his shoulder? He should’ve just asked one of the other guys if they knew Mingyu’s address. But who could he have asked? Would any of them even have known? What if he ended up living somewhere super far away? He shakes his head, accidentally bumping Mingyu in the nose and eliciting a grunt. It’s too late to go back now. Before long, they’re walking up the steps to Wonwoo’s front door. Maybe it’s just Wonwoo’s imagination, but the second stretch of the walk felt so much quicker. Is it because Mingyu didn’t say anything? Wonwoo isn’t sure.

The first thing he notices when he opens the door is that none of the lights are on. He probably should’ve noticed this from outside the house, but given that he can’t really focus on anything other than Mingyu right now, the lack of light coming through any of the windows didn’t even register. He lets out a thankful breath. If the lights aren’t on, that means his mom isn’t home, which means he doesn’t have to worry about explaining anything to her until tomorrow. He flips the lights on and guides Mingyu to the kitchen, setting him gently on one of the stools at the counter. Mingyu watches quietly as Wonwoo pours him a glass of water and slides it over.

“Drink that,” he says when Mingyu just stares at him blankly. He looks back and forth between Wonwoo and the glass skeptically, but eventually, he brings it to his lips and starts drinking. _What’s got him so quiet all of a sudden?_ He watches Mingyu drain the whole glass in one go, vaguely impressed, and realizes with concern that this is probably the very skill that aided him most in getting so hammered. Mingyu sets the glass down roughly, wiping the back of his mouth with his hand.

“That was water,” he observes.

“You’re damn right it was water,” Wonwoo confirms, snatching the glass back. “Want some more?” Mingyu doesn’t really get a choice, though, because the glass is already being refilled.

“I don’t want water!” he whines, balling his hands up into fists.

“Yeah, you _do_ , actually,” Wonwoo insists, pushing the glass forward. “You need to drink water. You’ll thank me tomorrow.”

“I finally get to come over, and you make me sit in the kitchen and drink water,” he says with a pout, drinking the second glass anyway.

“Well, what would you rather do?” Mingyu’s face lights up.

“The tour! I want a tour!” He slams his glass down passionately, and Wonwoo is thankful to whoever is listening that it didn’t crack.

“Finish your water,” he says sternly. “I’ll give you the tour tomorrow.”

“But what about right now?”

“Right now?” Wonwoo scoffs. “No way. Right now you’re going to bed.”

“Whaaaaat?” Mingyu groans. “You’re so unfair! I don’t wanna go to bed!”

“Unfair?” Wonwoo cries incredulously. “I’m giving up my bed for you! You should be thankful!”

“Oh… thank you.” Mingyu shuts up immediately, downing the rest of his water. _That was easier than expected._ He figures two full glasses of water is probably good enough for now, so he helps Mingyu back to his feet and starts dragging him out of the kitchen.

“Where are we going?” Mingyu asks, full of confusion, as Wonwoo steers him back through the living room.

“My room,” he answers, and Mingyu nearly knocks him over.

“Your room?” he asks excitedly. “Woohoo-hyung’s room!”

“Calm down! You’re just going to sleep, got it?”

“But I don’t wanna…”

“Too bad.” Wonwoo struggles to pull Mingyu through the house without knocking anything over, and he has never been as grateful as he is right now that his bedroom isn’t upstairs. Once they reach his room, he deposits Mingyu on the bed and turns to go turn the lights off in the rest of the house.

“You’re leaving?” Mingyu asks when he’s about to step out the door, voice trembling a little.

“I’m just turning the lights off. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” Mingyu says warily, and Wonwoo makes his exit. He turns off the lights as quickly as he can, not wanting to leave Mingyu alone for too long, and when he gets back, Mingyu is already lying down on his bed, sprawled out over the whole thing.

“Comfortable?” Wonwoo asks, taking a seat by the edge of the bed. Mingyu hums in response. Even in his current state of disarray, Mingyu somehow manages to still look stunning, and… _holy shit_. Wonwoo is just now realizing that he has not only brought this beautiful man for whom he has romantic feelings back to his home for the night, but also that he is lying in his own bed. His heart starts to beat much more loudly in his ears, and he can barely hear Mingyu over it.

“I like your room, hyung,” Mingyu says distractedly, eyes on the ceiling. “It’s just like you.” Wonwoo takes a glance around his room. Mostly-bare walls, mostly-empty bookshelf, mostly picked-up floor, mostly-organized desk. He narrows his eyes.

“Are you saying I’m boring?” he asks, a touch of annoyance in his voice.

“No, no, no, nononono.” Mingyu shakes his head vigorously, turning onto his side to look at Wonwoo. “Cute.” Wonwoo is too stunned to say anything, so he just stares back silently. Mingyu’s eyes search his face for a few moments before he speaks again. “You look good, hyung.”

“You’ve told me that three times now,” Wonwoo informs him, a blush creeping to his cheeks. Mingyu smiles back in return, showcasing those teeth that Wonwoo can never get out of his head.

“Have I?” he mumbles doubtfully. “You do, though.” He reaches an arm forward and lets it hang off the edge of the bed, hand dangling just in front of Wonwoo. Without thinking, Wonwoo reaches up and takes it, lacing their fingers together. _Shit, I didn’t mean to do that._ By the time he realizes what he’s done, though, it’s too late; Mingyu’s grip is too tight for him to pull his hand away. Mingyu’s eyes shine. “Really good.”

“Thanks,” Wonwoo mutters, face growing warmer by the second. “So do you.” Mingyu squeezes his hand even harder.

“Really, hyung?” Wonwoo nods, and Mingyu covers his face with his other hand, kicking his feet a tad too violently for Wonwoo’s liking.

“Hey, be careful, you’re gonna—”

“Hyung, can I kiss you?” Wonwoo’s eyes snap back to Mingyu’s face, still partially hidden behind his hand. One eye peeks out cautiously, observing Wonwoo’s reaction, but he isn’t really sure how to react.

“What?” he asks, showing off his incredible way with words. _I cannot have heard that correctly just now_.

“Can I kiss you?” Mingyu repeats, letting his hand fall away from his face. He bites his lip nervously, eyes not glancing away from Wonwoo’s for even a moment. Wonwoo’s heart goes into maximum overdrive, beating faster than he’s sure is healthy, but all he can do is stare straight back into Mingyu’s sparkling eyes.

“Why?” Yet another genius linguistic display by Jeon Wonwoo. Mingyu’s grip slackens, but still not enough for Wonwoo to detach his hand.

“I can’t?” Why does he look so sad? His expression sends pangs into Wonwoo’s heart.

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Wonwoo says, surprising himself. _It’s not? What am I saying, then? Can he?_ Wonwoo stays absolutely still as Mingyu creeps forward over the bed, pulling their joined hands to his mouth and placing a gentle kiss on Wonwoo’s knuckles. _Holy shit. This can’t be happening._

He’s drunk and he doesn’t know what he’s doing _._ That’s what Wonwoo tells himself, and he knows it’s true. He knows that Mingyu just wants some type of physical affection and that he’s only asking Wonwoo because there’s nobody else around. He knows. His brain won’t stop screaming it at him. He gets it. Yet he can’t convince himself to stop Mingyu, to shake him off. He can’t tear his eyes away from those lips.

Maybe it’s okay. _He wants to kiss me. I want to kiss him_. _What’s the harm in kissing him just one time?_ Mingyu probably won’t even remember it tomorrow. If it’s going to hurt anyone, it’ll be Wonwoo. He’ll have to remember that he only got to kiss Mingyu because he was drunk. It might eat at him, but Mingyu won’t know a thing, and he’ll be fine. No harm done. _It’s fine, it’s fine_. Wonwoo leans forward slightly, trying to psych himself up. _One kiss, just one. It’s okay._ He takes in a deep breath, making one last attempt to mentally prepare himself.

Evidently Mingyu doesn’t believe in mental preparation, though, because he swoops right in to plant his lips firmly on Wonwoo’s. A few moments pass before the reality sinks into Wonwoo’s brain. _I’m kissing Kim Mingyu. Kim Mingyu is kissing me._ His face goes hot with the realization. Mingyu’s free hand slides up Wonwoo’s arm and around the back of his neck, pulling their mouths closer together. Mingyu’s eyelids have drooped closed, and Wonwoo lets his do the same.

Once his brain starts registering things, the first thing Wonwoo notes is that Mingyu tastes, unsurprisingly, like alcohol. It’s terrible, but at the same time, it isn’t. Under the alcohol, there’s something else, something sweet, like candy, and it’s somehow enough to balance out the overwhelming bitterness of the alcohol. Mingyu’s lips are soft, so soft, and Wonwoo can’t help but lean forward to get more. He pushes his hand out of Mingyu’s grasp to run a hand through his hair. It’s soft, too, despite being styled, and Wonwoo thinks that’s probably a strange thing to notice when you’re in the middle of kissing someone, but he doesn’t really care. Mingyu’s second arm, now free, reaches behind Wonwoo and pulls him even closer, their chests pressing together. Wonwoo’s arms wrap around Mingyu instinctively. His hands are warm on Wonwoo’s back, and his back is warm under Wonwoo’s hands, and Wonwoo feels like he could melt at any moment.

When he feels Mingyu’s tongue slip into his mouth, though, he realizes it may be a little bit too late to say this was just one kiss. When he feels Mingyu’s hand slip under his shirt, he _knows_ that this has to stop right now. But for some reason, he can’t bring himself to break away. The fact that he’ll probably never be this close to Mingyu again might have something to do with it, or maybe it’s the softness of his lips even though they’re slightly chapped, or the gentleness of his fingertips as they brush Wonwoo’s skin. Whatever it is, Wonwoo knows it isn’t enough to justify kissing Mingyu for any longer than he already has.

With a heavy heart, he breaks his lips away from Mingyu’s, pulling his arms from around his waist and trying to push him gently back, but Mingyu doesn’t seem to have any intention of stopping. He dives in to plant a sloppy kiss on Wonwoo’s neck, and now Wonwoo is 100% convinced that this has to end immediately. A little more roughly, he shoves against Mingyu’s chest, finally forcing him far enough away to get the message across. Mingyu’s got a sad puppy look on his face, and for the second time, Wonwoo feels his heartstrings being brutally tugged.

“Wha…?” Mingyu’s eyes are full of confusion, looking all over Wonwoo’s face for an answer. “Hyung?” His voice is wobbling, pleading. Wonwoo rests an awkward hand on his shoulder, patting it as reassuringly as he thinks he can manage.

“Listen, Mingyu—”

“Mad at me?” Mingyu bursts in, wrapping his fingers around Wonwoo’s wrist. “You hate me?” The alarm in his voice is both extremely evident and very sudden, and Wonwoo isn’t really sure how to calm him down, so he just keeps patting his shoulder even though it doesn’t seem to be helping.

“You’re gonna wear your knees out from jumping to so many conclusions,” he says with a dry chuckle. Mingyu doesn’t laugh. Wonwoo sighs. “Not in the mood for jokes, I see.” He rubs a hand against his forehead, avoiding Mingyu’s eyes. “I’m not mad at you, and I don’t hate you.” Mingyu visibly relaxes, but he still looks anxious as Wonwoo continues speaking. “You just need to go to sleep.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah, I promise,” he sighs. Mingyu holds out his pinky and waits patiently for Wonwoo to lock it with his own, a small smile finally returning to his face once he does so. “Now, let’s go to sleep.”

“Okay.” Mingyu sits up, remaining still for a moment while a grimace takes over his features. “Uh, actually, hyung, I… don’t feel so great.” He clutches at his stomach with both his hands. “I think I…”

“Hold it in,” Wonwoo urges, rising in an instant and backing toward the door as quickly as possible. “I will be right back with a bucket. I swear to god, if you puke on my bed, you are a dead man.” Mingyu’s eyes widen in fear as Wonwoo races out of the room, practically tripping over his own feet to get to the bathroom. He grabs the trashcan and makes it back in a flash; just in time, apparently, because Mingyu doesn’t look like he can hold out much longer. The second the bin is on the ground in front of him, he’s bent over, emptying the contents of his stomach with astounding force. It smells absolutely disgusting, and Wonwoo regrets not trying to shuffle Mingyu to the bathroom, but it’s too late now. Once he seems finished, Wonwoo walks over to rub his back soothingly.

“All done?” he asks gently, placing his other hand on Mingyu’s knee.

“I think so…”

“Feel better?”

“Not really…”

“Are you gonna be okay if I take that outside and throw it away?” he asks, pointing at the trashcan between Mingyu’s feet. Mingyu looks at him worriedly, but nods anyway.

The night air is cold against Wonwoo’s face when he takes the ruined bag out to the trash, cooling his body and his mind. It finally sinks in that he just _definitely_ made out with Mingyu, and that keeps his cheeks from losing their warmth. Normally, this is something he would be unquestionably required to tell his friends, but can he if it was Mingyu? _Holy shit. There’s no way I can tell them. But what if I act all awkward and then they know it happened anyway?_ He groans, dropping the bag of vomit into the garbage and praying his mom doesn’t ask any questions later. _There’s no way I can win this_.

Mingyu is pressed as close to the wall as he can possibly get when Wonwoo returns. He almost looks like he’s trying to squeeze himself into the inch-wide gap between the bed and the wall, and the more Wonwoo thinks about it, that could be _exactly_ what he’s doing.

“You’re never gonna fit into that space, you know. You’re way too big.”

“What? I’m just makin’ sure you got enough room.” He pats the vacant portion of the bed beside him, assuring Wonwoo of its emptiness.

“Oh, no,” Wonwoo says. “You can have the bed all to yourself. I’ll take the floor.”

“What!” Mingyu cries in outrage. “But it’s _your_ bed!”

“My bed, my decision. You’re sleeping there.”

“Hyuuuuuuuuung,” he whines, hitting the blankets with more gusto. Wonwoo tries to ignore it, but he only increases in volume. “Hyuuuuuuuuuuuuung. _Hyuuuuuuuuuung. Hyuuuu_ —”

“ _Fine_ ,” Wonwoo snaps. “You better not be one of those people who kicks shit and does backflips in their sleep. I will kill you.” He makes a quick trip to the bathroom to brush his teeth and change out of his clothes, and when he makes it back to the bedroom, Mingyu already has his eyes closed, a peaceful smile on his face. _Is he already asleep?_ Wonwoo turns the lights off and climbs into the bed carefully, making sure not to bump Mingyu on accident. Once he’s made it all the way into a comfortable position without incident, he pulls the blanket up to his chin.

“Sweet dreams,” Mingyu whispers, shocking Wonwoo clean out of his outermost layer of skin. His heartrate picks up dangerously at the reminder of Mingyu’s proximity.

“You, too,” Wonwoo mutters back, but who is he fooling? There’s no way he’s getting a wink of sleep tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woo, it's here! hope you all enjoyed this chapter :-) i had a time writing it, let me tell you. i will do my best to get the next chapter out as quickly as possible, but as the semester is winding down and there's tons of stuff to do, i apologize if it's a little delayed!  
> as always, feedback is greatly appreciated, and thanks for sticking with me so far!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after the party

Somewhere, somehow, Wonwoo manages to fall asleep during the night, and upon waking, he realizes with alarm that there is a decently strong pair of arms wrapped around his waist. Turning his head slightly, he feels the pressure of Mingyu’s nose against his neck and groans. _This is the last thing I need right now_. He carefully wraps a hand around Mingyu’s wrist, making sure not to jostle him too much, and tries to extricate himself from the embrace without waking him. Thankfully, Mingyu sleeps like a log, so Wonwoo has no trouble making it out of the bed scot-free.

He tiptoes cautiously across the room, pulls the door open as slowly as possible to ensure that it won’t creak, and makes his escape swiftly, stepping softly over the carpet and to the kitchen, where he finds his mother seated at the counter with her morning mug of coffee in hand. She lowers the cup from her lips when she catches sight of Wonwoo’s face. “Morning.”

“Morning,” Wonwoo replies casually. Something about the glint in her eyes gives him the feeling that she knows more than her brief greeting is letting on.

“Who is he?” she asks without warning, confirming his suspicions. Wonwoo sighs. She doesn’t need to clarify to whom ‘he’ is referring. How could he not know? Of course his mom would have checked in to make sure her son was actually home, and how could she not notice the presence of a second boy in the bed? Wonwoo slides into a seat at the counter before answering.

“Mingyu,” he mumbles. His mom quirks her eyebrow, desirous of more information. “A friend from school.”

“Friend?” she asks skeptically. “His arms were around you,” she follows, as if Wonwoo needed a reminder. He rests his head in his hands.

“I know.”

“So?”

“So he’s just a friend who I had to bring over last night.” He picks up a spoon and starts twirling it in his fingers. “His arms weren’t around me when I fell asleep,” he continues, like that somehow strengthens his claim. His mother sighs.

“Look, I know I embarrass you sometimes, but you can tell me these things. I’m not a monster.”

“I know, mom, but it’s _really_ not what you think.”

“Are you sure?”

“How could I not be sure?” They keep up a brief staring contest until his mom nods, finally accepting her son’s words as truth. Wonwoo rises again. “I’ll go get him. He can introduce himself.”

Wonwoo wanders back to his room and pushes the door open gently, peeking through the gap. Mingyu is still fast asleep, and the morning light filtering through the window is casting an ethereal glow around him; it takes his breath away just a little. Though part of Wonwoo is hesitant to disturb this scene, he steps forward anyway, having already promised his mom that he would fetch the guest. Squatting next to the bed, he extends an arm and shakes Mingyu lightly.

“Hey.” No response. A little rougher. “Hey.” Still no response. “ _Hey_.” He’s practically tearing his arm off at this point. “Wake up, you oaf.” Finally, he stirs, inhaling a sharp breath through his nostrils. He opens his eyes just enough to see, a wide smile immediately gracing his features. _Quit it with those teeth so early in the morning._

“Hyung?” His cheery voice is still full of sleep, but there’s a mix of confusion, and Wonwoo recalls that Mingyu probably has absolutely no idea what’s going on. “Why are you here?”

“Well, for starters, it’s _my_ house,” he says, “and this is _my_ room, and that’s _my_ bed you’re in. I should be the one asking why _you’re_ here.” Mingyu suddenly sits straight up, a blush rising to his cheeks.

“I am so sorry,” he sputters, clearly flustered. Wonwoo tries his hardest to hold back a laugh. “I’m just gonna, uh—”

“Relax,” he interjects, placing a hand on Mingyu’s knee. “I’m just messing with you. You got way too drunk last night and wouldn’t tell me your address, so I brought you here.” Mingyu exhales heavily in relief, his whole frame relaxing. He rests his hand atop Wonwoo’s, causing a brief lurch in his heartrate.

“I see,” he groans. “That explains why my head feels like it’s dying.” Mingyu licks his lips before continuing, but Wonwoo doesn’t hear a single word more; suddenly, his memory is serving him far too well, and now he can’t take his eyes off Mingyu’s mouth. “Uh… hyung?”

Without realizing it, Wonwoo had been leaning closer to Mingyu as he spoke. Now they are dangerously close together, and Wonwoo still can’t tear his gaze away from those lips. He freezes, trying to think of a sensible explanation, and a whiff of something pungent suddenly permeates his nostrils. _Is that Mngyu’s breath?_

“Holy shit.” Wonwoo takes a few more sniffs to confirm, then leans back. “Not to be an ass, but you need to brush your teeth, like, right now.”

“Were you even listening to me just now?” Mingyu asks, slightly irritated.

“What? That’s not important,” Wonwoo dodges, pulling Mingyu out of the bed with a substantial effort. “Just go brush your teeth. My mom wants to meet you.” Mingyu rises reluctantly and begins shuffling toward the door, where he realizes that he doesn’t even know how to get to the bathroom to brush his teeth. Once Wonwoo enlightens him, he leaves briefly, and when he returns, the two make their way to the kitchen.

“Wow, you’re so tall!” Wonwoo’s mother exclaims as soon as she lays eyes on Mingyu. “And so handsome!”

“He’s not even that much taller than me,” Wonwoo grumbles as he plops down on a stool. Mingyu follows his example.

“Thank you,” he says, flashing a bright smile. Wonwoo sees his mom’s eyes widen just a little when she spots Mingyu’s teeth, and he remembers the first time he ever saw that smile. Then he remembers that the mouth wearing that smile was all over not only his own mouth but also his neck just last night, and he sinks a little lower in his seat and stares pointedly at the countertop. Mingyu extends a hand to shake with Wonwoo’s mom, bowing slightly. “I’m Kim Mingyu. Wonwoo and I are partners in home economics.”

“Nice to meet you,” she says warmly. “It’s been a while since Wonwoo’s brought a friend from school over.”

“Has not,” Wonwoo argues immediately, though he isn’t actually sure whether it has or not.

“I mean someone _aside_ from the pack of goons you usually hang around with,” she teases. Wonwoo furrows his brow, trying to recall. _The last friend I brought over?_

“It wasn’t that long ago. I brought over… uh…”

“It was that boy you dated,” she informs him coolly. “What’s-his-name. And that was almost two years ago.” Wonwoo gawks, dumbfounded. _Has it really been that long?_ His mother smirks victoriously as her son crosses his arms in defeat. Wonwoo glances over at Mingyu, who is looking back and forth between the two of them with wide eyes. Wonwoo clears his throat, letting his mom know that she needs to move the conversation away from his ex-boyfriend, and thankfully, she understands. “So, Mingyu, would you like to have anything for breakfast?” she asks. _Nice segue._

”Uh, sure,” he mumbles, surprised by the sudden question. “Do you have any… b-bagels?”

“We don’t, actually,” Wonwoo’s mom says, and before Mingyu can offer a second option, she’s speaking again. “But that’s okay! I will run to the store right now and pick some up.” She stands and walks quickly across the room to grab her keys.

“No, you really don’t have to—”

“Too late!” she chirps cheerfully, despite the fact that it is clearly not too late. “I’m going. I’ll be back soon. Behave yourselves!” With a smile, she’s already gone, the sound of the front door swinging shut echoing through the house. Wonwoo sighs. _She must be the least subtle person on the planet_.

She’s always been able to tell when Wonwoo has a crush, and once she notices, she goes well out of her way to leave them alone together, regardless of whether Wonwoo desires it. At this particular moment, when he is unable to get the thought of kissing Mingyu last night off his mind, he’s not desiring it. He reluctantly drags his eyes up to look at Mingyu, who has completely zoned out. He isn’t really sure of how to start a conversation without being awkward, and he doesn’t particularly want to, either, but he knows it’ll only be more awkward if they don’t talk to each other at all. Knowing his mom, she’s currently on her way to the most distant possible store to pick up bagels, so they really won’t be able to get away with a natural silence. _Damn it, mom! This is why I don’t tell you things._

“How’s your head?” Wonwoo asks, trying his best to be casual about it. What he’d really like to ask is ‘do you remember anything from last night,’ but he’s not so sure he really wants to know; if the answer is no, everything is fine, but if it’s yes, he’s got a pretty deep hole to dig himself back out of.

“Still terrible,” Mingyu grumbles, massaging his temples. Wonwoo didn’t notice earlier, but he’s got some pretty wild bedhead going on, and much like the rest of him, it’s extremely charming. Resisting the urge to ruffle Mingyu’s hair, he grabs a glass and begins filling it with water.

“Do you want some aspirin?” he asks, sliding the glass across the countertop.

“Sure,” Mingyu says, taking a sip of water. He sets the glass back down and stares at it thoughtfully. “Did this happen last night?” Wonwoo’s blood pressure spikes at the sound of the words ‘last’ and ‘night’ used in succession. He tries to remain calm as he fetches the bottle of aspirin and rolls it to Mingyu, who barely manages to catch it.

“You mean drinking water?” he asks, doing his very best to keep the nerves out of his voice. To his great relief, Mingyu nods and begins unscrewing the cap of the container. “Yeah, I made you drink a few glasses of water when we got here.” Wonwoo works hard to keep his eyes off Mingyu’s lips as he brings the glass to them, but they end up resting on his Adam’s apple instead, watching it move with each gulp of water. He can’t win today. “That reminds me, are you okay? You fell down the stairs.”

“Oh yeah,” Mingyu sighs. “Now that you mention it, I remember that.” He rubs the back of his head gingerly. “Maybe that has something to do with why my head hurts so much.”

“Stay still,” Wonwoo says, rushing over immediately. “I’m gonna check to see if you have a bruise anywhere.”

He says that, but he’s not really sure how to go about it without making things awkward. He holds Mingyu’s head in his hand and squints, taking in the full side view. _Damn, that’s one hell of a profile… Now is not the time._ Finding nothing, he waddles around to the other side, which also seems to be devoid of bruises. Having checked each side of his face, the only region left to check is the back of his head, which is going to be slightly more difficult due to the presence of hair. Steeling himself, he slides his fingers into Mingyu’s hair, pushing it back to check for anything that looks like a bruise.

His hair is soft, and now Wonwoo can’t think of anything but the way it felt last night when they were kissing. Running his hands through Mingyu’s hair is almost therapeutic; it soothes him until he remembers he’s supposed to be hunting for injuries and not just aimlessly rubbing Mingyu’s head. He begins hastily peeling back each layer, trying to make up for lost time, and lets out a grateful breath when he finds nothing of concern.

“Everything looks okay,” he says, praying Mingyu didn’t notice that he got distracted. If he did, he doesn’t say anything about it, so Wonwoo decides to take a risk. “How much of last night do you even remember? You were pretty smashed.”

“Not much,” Mingyu admits, and Wonwoo cheers internally. “Drinking the water reminded me that I drank water last night, but I can’t really remember anything after I fell down the stairs.”

“How did you even fall down the stairs?”

“Well, I was coming to find you, I think, so I was just going down the stairs, but then Jun and Jihoon were sitting on them.” _Oh, they were doing a lot more than just sitting_. “And I guess I lost my balance trying to get around them.”

“I’m surprised you made it down any stairs at all,” Wonwoo confesses. “You could barely even stand.”

“Well, I definitely _feel_ like I couldn’t stand last night,” Mingyu groans in response. “Never let me drink again.”

“’Again’?” Wonwoo scoffs. “I didn’t let you drink this time. That was all you.” Mingyu chuckles dryly.

“Yeah, yeah,” he says softly. “Well, next time, please stop me.”

The sound of the front door opening interrupts their conversation. _She’s back sooner than I expected_. Wonwoo’s mother strides proudly into the kitchen with three full bags of bagels that Wonwoo knows will never get eaten. Plopping the bags on the counter, she beams at the two boys.

“Hope you kids weren’t waiting long,” she lies, sending Wonwoo a knowing glance. “I didn’t know what kind you would want, so I picked up a lot. There’s cream cheese, too.”

“Wow!” Mingyu says enthusiastically, his eyes growing wide and sparkling. Wonwoo is momentarily robbed of his breath. “Thank you!”

“Sure thing,” she says, and Mingyu begins sifting through the bags, examining all the different varieties of bagels. Much to Wonwoo’s amazement, he pulls out four different bagels and stacks them up on a paper plate handed to him by Wonwoo’s mother.

“Are you seriously gonna eat four bagels?” Wonwoo asks when the third one pops out of the toaster, unable to comprehend the idea of consuming so much plain bread.

“Why?” Mingyu asks defensively, inserting the final bagel into the toaster. “Is that illegal?”

“Uh, no. It’s just a lot of bread.”

“Well, I like bread,” he retorts, slathering cream cheese on bagel #3 and placing it precariously on the plate next to the previous two, which also have a thorough coating of cream cheese. “Sue me.”

“So,” Wonwoo’s mother cuts in, “do the two of you have any plans for today?”

“I’m pretty sure I did,” Wonwoo begins, scrunching up his nose, “but I can’t remember what they were.” He ponders for a few more minutes, then takes a glance at Mingyu and remembers. “Oh yeah, they were with Mingyu. We have to write our essay about Garbage Dump today.”

“Garbage Dump?”

“Our child,” Mingyu states, keeping up a heated staring contest with the toaster. “I totally forgot.”

“Well, I hope the two of you have fun with that. I have a friend coming into town today, so I’ve actually got to go meet her, but it’s been very nice meeting you, Mingyu!”

“But you just got back!” Wonwoo whines, stopping her in her tracks halfway to the door. There’s no way Wonwoo can deal with being totally alone with him again.

“I know,” she says unsympathetically, smile plastered on her face. “Being an adult is like that sometimes.” Without giving Wonwoo any time to argue, she’s out the door, leaving the two of them with nothing but each other’s company once again. Wonwoo watches Mingyu carefully extract his final bagel and begin spreading a generous layer of cream cheese on it.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” he asks, taking a bite of bagel #1. As much as he attempts not to, Wonwoo can’t help but stare when Mingyu licks excess cream cheese off his lips. He wishes he could go back in time and get so drunk that he also doesn’t remember last night, but it’s way too late for that.

“Uh, yeah. I’m just lip—looking for one that I want to try.” Betrayed by his own brain! Wonwoo clamps his mouth shut to prevent any other subconscious thoughts from slipping out and grabs the bag closest to him.

“You’re just gonna have a plain bagel?” Mingyu asks as Wonwoo pushes the toaster’s lever down. He’s already devoured his first two bagels and is moving rapidly to his third, showing no sign of slowing down.

“Holy shit, can’t a man eat a plain bagel in his own home?”

“Yeah, but—”

“No buts! Lip—leave me alone!” _Damn you, brain! Can I know no peace?_ He pulls his bagel angrily out of the toaster when it’s done and spreads a meager layer of cream cheese on top of each half. By the time Wonwoo begins eating, Mingyu has already finished all four of his bagels, so he just watches Wonwoo eat silently. Wonwoo squirms under his gaze, afraid that he’ll somehow see into Wonwoo’s brain if he looks long enough and remember that they totally made out last night.

_Well, what’s so bad about him knowing?_ Wonwoo has no idea why he asks himself this question. Of course, if Mingyu remembers, it’ll just be uncomfortable for the both of them. They’ll probably have to stop being friends, which would make home economics incredibly awkward given the existence of Mr. Park’s ‘no partner switching’ rule. Wonwoo sighs around the last bite of his bagel. Sometimes, he wishes he would think harder before making stupid decisions.

“Well, now that we’ve eaten, do you want to start on the essay?” Wonwoo asks, eager to get it over with. It’s not that he wants Mingyu gone as soon as possible, but he wants Mingyu gone as soon as possible. Not only because he needs to clear his head, but also because with each passing moment that Mingyu stays in his house, he becomes exponentially more terrified that Mingyu will remember something from last night, which is the absolute last thing he wants to happen.

At a nod from Mingyu, the two head back to Wonwoo’s bedroom. Wonwoo sits in the chair at the desk and opens his computer, pulling up an empty document. Mingyu, not quite sure of what to do, squats beside him and rests his chin on the edge of the desk, directly beside Wonwoo’s hand. Wonwoo desperately suppresses the desire to pat him on the top of the head as he types their names at the top of the document.

The writing of the paper goes by mostly in silence, with Mingyu occasionally voicing thoughts on something that should be written while Wonwoo types. When they’re about halfway through the first page, though, Wonwoo realizes something unusual: he hasn’t heard Garbage Dump at all this morning. He knows there’s no way he left him at the party, and he’s pretty sure he didn’t leave him on the sidewalk last night. The odds that he just hasn’t been whining are pretty slim; Mr. Park assured the class that the babies would have plenty of battery to make it through the whole week.

“Say, Mingyu,” Wonwoo begins hesitantly, “you haven’t heard Garbage Dump around today, have you?”

“Are you telling me you lost our son?” Mingyu accuses, pivoting his head to look up at Wonwoo. “I can’t believe you, hyung.”

“Excuse me? Today is technically _your_ day, anyway,” Wonwoo reminds him, “so he’s _your_ responsibility, which means _you_ lost him.”

“But _you_ had him last, and I was way too hammered last night for any _decent_ parent to pass custody of a child to me.”

“Oh, really? Well, last I checked, _decent_ parents don’t get so intoxicated they can’t take care of their children.”

“Are we seriously arguing about this right now?” Mingyu asks, and Wonwoo’s not sure if they really are or not. A small grin stretches his lips as he pushes himself up from the chair.

“Way to change the subject, you shit father.” He starts toward the door, but a hand grabbing his wrist prevents him from leaving.

“Where are you going?” Some of the vulnerability from last night is in his words, and it makes Wonwoo’s chest tighten.

“Obviously, I’m going to go look for our son.”

“I’ll come with you,” Mingyu says, trying to pull himself to his feet, but his legs seem to have fallen asleep.

“No need,” Wonwoo says, prying his wrist free. “I’m pretty sure I know where he is. He likes me better anyway.”

“He does not, you asshole,” Mingyu huffs, a smile warming up his face. He falls into a sitting position, leaning his weight back on his arms. “Everybody knows I’m the cool dad.” Wonwoo rolls his eyes as he leaves the room, shutting the door behind him.

When he arrives at the kitchen, he sees his bag sitting where he left it on top of the table last night. He’s incredibly relieved to see Garbage Dump’s stumpy little legs when he pulls the drawstrings, and he’s incredibly surprised to find that the reason they had yet to hear the baby’s whining was that his speakers had been expertly muffled by a diaper. Sliding the child out of the bag fills the room with continued cacophonous whining, and Wonwoo has no way of knowing exactly how long he’s been crying without being heard. Knowing Garbage Dump, though, he’s sure it’s been a while.

“If we were real parents, this child would be taken from us by the state,” Wonwoo says, striding back into his room with Garbage Dump after tending to his needs. “And I wouldn’t blame them.”

“We’re pretty shitty parents,” Mingyu admits as he takes the baby into his arms.

“Whoa! Language, Mingyu. You’re going to corrupt him.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Mingyu sighs, patting Garbage Dump’s back. “Let’s just finish the paper.”

The rest of the paper goes by pretty quickly. Garbage Dump whines a few times, but Mingyu takes care of it promptly. The pair agrees to conveniently leave out the detail of bringing the infant child to a party where there were copious amounts of alcohol and underage drinking, and with minimal bickering over the other details, they’ve finished the paper in no time.

“Can I borrow a phone charger?” Mingyu asks while Wonwoo prints the essay out. “I just checked, and my phone is breathing its last breaths right now.”

“Sure,” Wonwoo says, tossing him the cord. “While we wait for it to charge some, I’ll give you the tour.”

“Seriously?” Mingyu asks brightly. “Awesome! I was actually hoping you would, but I didn’t wanna ask.”

“Yeah, well,” Wonwoo sighs, “you don’t remember, but I told you I would last night. So it’s only fair.” He collects the papers from the printer and sets them on his desk, then holds the door open and waits for Mingyu. “Come on.”

“Woohoo!” Mingyu cheers joyfully. “Hyung’s house!”

“Don’t get _that_ excited. It’s just a house,” Wonwoo says. Something about Mingyu’s high level of excitement even though he’s sober is a little too taxing on his heart right now.

He guides Mingyu through the house starting with the upstairs portion. The more he shows him around the house, the more he realizes there isn’t much to see. All the walls are the same subdued beige, all the carpets the same soft brown, all the rooms lightly furnished. Wonwoo never noticed before what a boring place it was because his friends were always so loud and distracting, but with Mingyu just silently observing everything, he feels like they may as well be out watching the grass in the front lawn grow. He takes Mingyu back downstairs and shows him the remaining rooms, slightly upset by the fresh realization that his house is super lame. They return to Wonwoo’s room and determine that Mingyu’s phone has charged up enough for him to leave.

“Thanks for bringing me over,” Mingyu says, standing by the front door. “And thanks for the tour.”

“No problem,” Wonwoo says lightly. “Sorry my house is so boring.” Now that Mingyu’s finally leaving, part of him is a little sad that he has to go. That part is immediately shut up by the much larger part of him that is incredibly relieved, both because Mingyu is leaving and because he’s taking Garbage Dump with him.

“It’s not boring,” Mingyu insists. “I like your house, hyung!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Wonwoo sighs. “Just go make sure your parents know you’re alive.”

“Alright,” Mingyu says. “I guess I’ll see you Monday, then… Unless you want me to bring Garbage Dump back to you tomorrow?”

“Hell, no. You’re stuck with him until Monday.”

“I figured you would say that,” Mingyu says, exhaling heavily. “Well, I guess I’m off, then.” Wonwoo waves after him for a bit as he leaves, then withdraws back into the comfort of his house.

Mingyu makes his way down the sidewalk quickly, not stopping until he’s a few streets down from Wonwoo’s house. Once he makes it that far away, he stops in front of a street sign and pulls out his phone, scrolling through his contact list quickly and holding the phone up to his ear to wait for the recipient of the call to pick up. He taps his foot impatiently as it rings, relaxing only when he hears the click on the other end of the line.

“Hello?” The boy’s voice coming through the speakers is soft and a little slow, like he’s just waking up.

“Minghao? Are you just waking up?” Mingyu asks in disbelief, checking his phone for the time. “It’s 3 o’clock!” In all the years he’s known Minghao, he’s always been an early riser. The thought of him just getting up now is completely outlandish.

“Well, we woke up earlier,” Minghao says around a yawn, “but we went back to sleep. Do you need something?”

“Wait, who’s ‘we’?”

“Uh, me and Jeonghan,” he says bashfully.

“You and Jeonghan?!” Mingyu nearly screams. If it means missing this much, he’s never touching a drop of alcohol again. “You’re _still_ at Jeonghan’s house?”

“Yeah,” Minghao confesses. “I actually woke up in his bed this morning.” Hearing Mingyu sputter, he follows up quickly. “Before you make any assumptions, I am a man of virtue. We both were, and still are, fully-clothed.”

“Still,” Mingyu whistles. “You two, huh? Who would’ve guessed it.” He can practically hear his friend blushing when he responds.

“Did you actually have a reason to call me? I could still be sleeping right now.”

“Don’t act like you aren’t already extremely bothered by sleeping in so late.” Minghao sighs.

“You’re right,” he concedes. “So, what do you need me for?”

“It’s kinda funny, actually,” Mingyu starts, chewing his lip, “because I _also_ woke up in a bed that was not my own this morning.”

“Yeah, Wonwoo’s,” Minghao asserts matter-of-factly. Mingyu gapes.

“How did you already know that?”

“Last night when Jeonghan and I were… hanging out,” he says with a cough, “Wonwoo came in and told us he was taking you home.” He ponders for a moment before continuing. “In hindsight, he probably meant he was taking you to your house, but my guess is you were acting like a huge dumbass and wouldn’t tell him your address.” Mingyu groans.

“Why does that seem like something I would actually do?”

“Because it _is_ something you would actually do,” Minghao informs him, “and probably also what you _did_ do. I would honestly be more surprised if it wasn’t.”

“Anyway,” Mingyu grumbles, “this isn’t what I wanted to talk about.”

“Yeah, right,” Minghao says, and Mingyu hears rustling coming from his side. “Stop, I’m on the phone,” he whispers, giggling, and Mingyu is fairly confident that the command is not directed at him. He offers an exaggerated sigh, demanding Minghao’s attention.

“Could you maybe _not_ be so gross while I’m on the phone with you?”

“Jealousy is a disease, Mingyu.”

“If you tell me to get well soon, I swear to god I will—”

“You said it, not me.” Mingyu can tell he’s grinning just by the tone of his voice. “So, you woke up in Wonwoo’s bed.”

“Whoa!” Jeonghan’s shocked voice suddenly crackles through the phone’s speakers, incredibly clear despite not being the one on the phone. “Seriously?”

“Dude, am I on speaker?”

“No,” Jeonghan shouts back cheerfully, “I’m just listening!” He hears the sound of a slap, probably Minghao swatting Jeonghan’s head, followed by a short burst of laughter from the couple.

“Well,” Minghao says to an irritated Mingyu once he’s calmed down, “isn’t that good? This is progress, right?” Mingyu furrows his brow.

“Is it? I’m not really sure.” He stands still for a moment, wracking his brain trying to remember as much from last night as he can, but it’s all running together into blackness. The aspirin he took earlier is starting to lose its effect, and his head’s constant pounding sure as hell isn’t helping him recall anything. “He was acting kinda weird today, though.”

“Don’t worry,” Jeonghan interjects suddenly, “Wonwoo is just a weird guy.” Minghao sighs. “Hey, where are you going?” Jeonghan whines, voice sounding much farther away.

“Sorry about that,” Minghao says, the sound of a door shutting traveling through the line. He sighs. “I didn’t think he was going to try to join in.”

“It’s fine. It’s his house.” Mingyu isn’t really sure why he says this, because it makes exactly no damn sense, but he doesn’t take it back.

“How was he acting weird?” Minghao asks, dragging the conversation back to the topic at hand.

“Well, first, when he woke me up, he was leaning in really close, like _really_ close, like I never thought I would see his face that close up.” He shifts his weight uneasily between his feet. “And then he checked my head for bruises, you know, since I fell down the stairs, but I swear he was just feeling my hair? And then he just ate a plain bagel!”

“I guess those first two things are a little unusual,” Minghao allows, “but I have never understood why you find it bizarre when people eat plain bagels.”

“Fine, forget the part about the bagel. The other stuff is weird, though, right?”

“Probably? I don’t know what Wonwoo is usually like, though.”

“Not like that. Ask Jeonghan.”

“Yeah, he’s definitely not usually like that,” Jeonghan bursts in without warning. _He was still there?_ Mingyu hears a scuffle, and the door slams shut again. Minghao sighs, but Mingyu can tell his frustration isn’t quite genuine.

“Do you think anything happened last night that you can’t remember?” Mingyu chews his lip nervously.

“I’m not really sure, but I think… I think we might have kissed.”

“Whoa,” is all Minghao manages to say in response.

“I feel like I can kind of remember it,” Mingyu says uncertainly, “but he didn’t say anything about it. Maybe I just dreamed it.”

“Why don’t you just ask him about it on Monday?”

“And if it turns out that I just dreamed the whole thing?” _Not that it would be the first time._ “How am I going to explain _that_ without making it super awkward?”

“I don’t know, man, but…” Loud banging on whatever door Minghao has shut interrupts him mid-thought. “Sorry, I gotta go. Jeonghan wants my help with something. Make sure you let your parents know you’re alive.” With that, he hangs up, leaving Mingyu to make the rest of the walk home with nothing but his thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woohoo!!! a little more highkey jeonghao, and mingyu's pov at long last! hope you all enjoyed this chapter! other cool news: 30k words! holy shit! this chapter wasn't as quick as the others, but it is the longest chapter so far, if that's any consolation. i can't make any guarantees about the speed of the next chapter, either, because finals are about to kick my ass, but rest assured i will do my very best to deliver as soon as possible! as always, feedback is greatly appreciated, and thank you all for sticking with the story thus far!!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wonwoo just needs to get through the day.

There are many reasons Wonwoo does not want Monday to come. For one, he would just rather not go to school in the first place. For two, he doesn’t want to have to deal with Garbage Dump again, even if it is just to turn him back in. For three, and this is probably the most important, he is very much not looking forward to seeing Mingyu. At first, he isn’t too stressed out about encountering Mingyu on Monday, but then he gets a text on Sunday night that convinces him he should be.

**From: spoon jeonghan**

**dude i don’t wanna stress u out or anything but i just remembered i have something important to ask u**

**To: spoon jeonghan**

**i am always stressed. just tell me**

**From: spoon jeonghan**

**so yesterday mingyu called minghao when he was still over at my house and i just happened to overhear their conversation and mingyu said he thinks u 2 mighta kissed but he doesn’t remember**

**From: spoon jeonghan**

**so did u**

_“Just happened to overhear,” my ass._ Wonwoo’s known Jeonghan for too long not to realize he always eavesdrops intentionally. He can’t dwell on that for long, though, because the rest of the sentence knocks the wind right out of him. _Mingyu knows?_ No, no, no, he doesn’t know. He just thinks he remembers. _Well, that’s not much better_. No, it isn’t. _No, it isn’t_.

Wonwoo’s too stunned to say anything back to Jeonghan. His heart pounds in his ears as he tries desperately to figure out how he’s going to avoid it if Mingyu decides to bring it up at school. His soul is shocked out of his body at the sudden sound of his phone buzzing again.

 

**From: spoon jeonghan**

**are u ignoring me. asshole im sending u the alphabet until u reply**

**From: spoon jeonghan**

**A**

**From: spoon jeonghan**

**B**

**From: spoon jeonghan**

**C**

**To: spoon jeonghan**

**please do not do this**

**From: spoon jeonghan**

**Dthere u are. answer me**

**To: spoon jeonghan**

**don’t freak out but yeah. pls don’t tell anyone**

**From: spoon jeonghan**

**HELL YEAHW ONWOO!!!!! IM TELLONG EVERYONE**

**To: spoon jeonghan**

**CALM DOWN AND PLEASE LISTEN WHEN PEOPLE ASK U NOT TO DO THINGS**

Wonwoo stares uncomfortably at his phone waiting for Jeonghan to say something back, but it just goes black and stays that way for a while. Definitely a bad sign. Jeonghan is either telling everyone immediately, or he has suddenly gotten extremely busy taking a nap. While the second thing happens often enough to be feasible, it’s far more likely that option #1 is what’s actually going down. After a few minutes, his phone buzzes again, filling his chest with nothing but overwhelming dread.

 

**From: kwon spoonyoung**

**I KNEW IT**

Wonwoo lets out a defeated breath. Damn that Jeonghan! Would it kill him to comply with a request just once in his life? And of course the first one to say something to Wonwoo would have to be Soonyoung. He’s tapping out a response when his phone starts buzzing again.

 

**From: wen spoonhui**

**dude omg**

**From: lee jispoon**

**i’m not surprised by this but also i am offended that i had to hear it from jeonghan**

Wonwoo sighs, exiting out of the response he was typing to Soonyoung and opening a group message instead.

 

**To: spoon jeonghan, kwon spoonyoung, wen spoonhui, lee jispoon, hong jispoon, choi shitcheol**

**ok listen please do not say anything to or around mingyu i seriously mean it**

**From: choi shitcheol**

**say anything about what**

**From: spoon jeonghan**

**i knew i was forgetting some1! wonwoo kissed mingyu**

**From: choi shitcheol**

**WHAT**

**From: hong jispoon**

**I KNOW. WTF WONWOO**

**To: Group**

**DID ANY OF U JACKASSES EVEN READ MY MESSAGE**

**From: lee jispoon**

**i did but why can’t we mention it. he was actually there**

**To: Group**

**bc he was super drunk and doesn’t remember and I would rather he not remember**

**From: wen spoonhui**

**YOU SCOUNDREL**

**From: choi shitcheol**

**well i guess i won’t mention it but more importantly are u finally admitting u have a thing for mingyu**

**To: Group**

**maybe**

**From: hong jispoon**

**maybe??? u were sober tho it’s not like u kissed him on accident**

**To: Group**

**ok fine im admitting it**

**From: kwon spoonyoung**

**JUST LIKE I SAID IT WOULD HAPPEN**

**From: wen spoonhui**

**DAMN IT**

**From: lee jispoon**

**DAMN IT**

**From: choi shitcheol**

**DAMN IT**

**From: spoon jeonghan**

**DAMN IT**

**From: hong jispoon**

**DAMN IT**

**From: kwon spoonyoung**

**YOU ALL OWE ME TEN BUCKS $$$$$**

**To: Group**

**WHAT THE HELL YOU MADE BETS**

**From: kwon spoonyoung**

**dates don’t pay for themselves wonwoo. a guy’s gotta earn money somehow :^)**

**To: Group**

**u are all assholes and i hate u**

**From: hong jispoon**

**but we’re assholes that love u :-----)**

Wonwoo’s had enough. He silences his phone and tosses it to the other side of the room. There’s no way he can expect them to help him out here. The only option he really has is disappearing before this can blow up in his face.

He whips his computer open and looks up the prices of bus tickets. He doesn’t care where he goes, as long as it’s away from here. Throwing together a bag of clothes, he grabs his wallet and climbs out through his window so his mom won’t see him leaving. If he runs fast enough, he can be at the bus station in ten minutes, and he certainly runs fast enough. He buys the cheapest ticket available, and within minutes, he’s in a stuffy bus on its way out of town, problems getting farther away by the minute.

Of course, he can’t actually do that. There’s no way he could just leave his mom and his friends behind without a word, and financially, there’s even less of a way that he would survive. He sighs, gazing with disdain at his discarded phone. If only he could go back to Friday night and stop himself, punch his past self in the face or something and tell him to get a grip. Or if only he could just go back to the date of his birth and stop himself from being born. Or go back even further and stop his parents from ever meeting.

He groans. There’s no good in thinking like this now that the damage has been done. He’ll just have to hope Mingyu decides he actually doesn’t remember anything and trust that his friends will actually have his back for once. More than anyone else, he’s worried about Jeonghan. The guy is without a doubt the closest a human can get to being a leaky faucet; Wonwoo has never once told him anything important of his own free will, and he’s never been involved in the planning of any surprise party. He’s especially dangerous now since he’s dating (or at least making out with) someone in Mingyu’s circle of friends, which makes the information twice as likely to leak. Wonwoo doesn’t know how secure Minghao is, but Jeonghan alone has led him to be distrustful of everyone.

Flipping his computer open, he tries to turn his attention to anything else and distract himself from the thought of Mingyu’s possible confrontation that’s gnawing at the back of his mind. It doesn’t work. He’s on his fifth video detailing the entire process of making cinnamon rolls from scratch when he realizes he still hasn’t been able to get the fear out of his thoughts and knows nothing about the process of crafting cinnamon rolls. He curses, slamming the computer shut again. Looks like he’s just going to have to suffer.

After a while of sitting in silent self-hatred, he fetches his phone and opens it up to see what he’s missed. _114 messages? How could they have sent that many so quickly?_ A new message arrives as he unlocks his phone, so he clicks it to have a look.

 

**From: spoon jeonghan**

**imagine the thinnest spaghetti possible. like i mean any thinner and you wouldn’t be able to even see it. it was exactly like that but less al dente**

Wonwoo raises his eyebrows, unsure whether he really wants to know the context for that message. Eventually, he decides that ignorance is bliss and puts his phone well out of reach. It’s a little too early to go to sleep, but he climbs into bed anyway, hoping that he’ll somehow fall asleep immediately and wake up extremely well-rested and ready for anything that comes his way tomorrow. This doesn’t happen, of course, because he is destined to endure immense turmoil, so instead, he lies in bed for a good three hours, unable to think about anything but Mingyu’s lips.

When he wakes up, he actually doesn’t feel half bad; he then immediately remembers last night’s worries and feels full bad. Most of him just wants to skip school, but he knows he can’t because the home economics paper is due today, and Mr. Park has expressed a very firm belief that assignments must be turned in on the day they’re due without fail. Wonwoo sighs, pulling himself reluctantly out of bed. All he needs to do is get through today.

His first few classes go by just fine, but that’s to be expected. Mingyu isn’t in them. It’s only as he walks toward the classroom for home economics that the real anxiety starts to set in. Peering in through the doorway, he finds that Mingyu has yet to arrive and breathes a sigh of relief. _At least I don’t have to deal with him just yet_. He slides into his seat quickly, taking several deep breaths to prepare himself for Mingyu’s appearance. Before he has enough time to calm down, a familiar figure eases into the seat beside him.

Wonwoo gulps. Mingyu’s hair is parted again like it was on Friday night, and Wonwoo does not need the reminder. His lips jut out from the small frown adorning his face; Wonwoo can tell immediately from the lack of his trademark smile that something is bugging him, but he’s too scared to ask.  If it’s got anything to do with Friday night or kissing, he’s not interested. Especially not if it pertains to both of those things at the same time. He sits for a few moments in silent deliberation, wondering if he should greet Mingyu or if that would be too suspicious since Mingyu always does it first, except Mingyu still hasn’t said anything, and that’s starting to worry him even more. After a few more moments of unnerving silence, Wonwoo caves.

“Morning,” he mutters unenthusiastically, hoping his nerves don’t show. If there’s one thing he knows will give him away, it’s his own unusual behavior. All he can do is pray he acts normal enough to sate Mingyu.

“Hey,” Mingyu responds glumly, barely flicking his eyes in Wonwoo’s direction. He pulls Garbage Dump out of his backpack and sets him carelessly on the desk; glancing around, Wonwoo sends a silent prayer to whoever’s listening to thank them for making sure Mr. Park wasn’t in the room to witness this horrendous parenting. After another few seconds, Mingyu doesn’t say anything else and instead just sighs heavily, forcing Wonwoo to break the silence again.

“Something wrong?” he inquires hesitantly. To his surprise, Mingyu flashes a sudden smile.

“Are you saying you care?” he asks smugly. The tightness in Wonwoo’s chest dissolves immediately; half of it is the relief that Mingyu’s acting like his normal self, and half of it is the raw power of that dazzling grin.

“Of course not,” Wonwoo replies, a small smile creeping onto his face. If someone were to ask him to express the genuine relief he’s feeling right now in words, he wouldn’t be able to do it. He could almost cry, but he’s not going to, because that would _definitely_ be suspicious.

“Then why’d you _ask?”_ Mingyu teases, slamming his shoulder into Wonwoo’s on the final syllable.

“It’s called being _polite_ ,” Wonwoo retorts, shoving back. “I wouldn’t suppose you’ve heard of it.”

“Excuse me?” Mingyu scoffs. “I am the _most_ polite person. You will _never_ meet another guy as great as I am.” Wonwoo snorts, then the bell rings. Mr. Park walks in to commence class, and the hour passes without incident.

The first thing Wonwoo notices when he enters his next class is that Jeonghan’s dyed his hair to a nice, vibrant red. Somehow, it suits him, but even if Wonwoo wanted to make a comment on it, he can’t; the bunch already sitting at their desks is too rambunctious for him to get a word in edgewise. In fact, they don’t even notice his arrival.

“He’s an animal,”Jihoon says, tugging up the collar of his turtleneck sweater and digging a finger into the chest of Jun, who is also wearing a turtleneck. Wonwoo plops down in his chair, watching Jun chuckle lightheartedly as he grabs at Jihoon’s hand. The fact that they don’t have to hide anything stirs incredible jealousy within Wonwoo, his frown deepening with every second he keeps watching them.

“You don’t mean that,” Jun says, capturing both his hands and smiling slyly.

“I’m serious,” Jihoon counters, struggling to shake off Jun’s iron grip. “I have, like, 10 hickeys.” Wonwoo takes another look at the turtlenecks. _Well, maybe they do have to hide something._

“Holy _shit_ ,” Soonyoung whispers in awe. Bringing a hand up to stroke his chin and lowering his voice even further, he says, “I’m honestly surprised you don’t have more.”

“I don’t want to hear anything,” Jisoo interjects, covering his eyes with his hand as if that will somehow impede his ability to hear. “I suddenly cannot hear. I know nothing.”

“Sounds like Wonwoo wasn’t the only one who had an exciting Friday evening,” Jeonghan says with an unsettling smirk, letting his gaze rest on Wonwoo. Wonwoo sighs.

“Don’t act like you didn’t have quite a night yourself,” Wonwoo says, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively in an attempt to redirect the conversation. “You and Minghao, huh?”

“We’re not talking about that right now,” Jeonghan says, his smile growing into a genuine beam that indicates he actually _does_ want to talk about it.

“We _could_ be talking about it,” Wonwoo argues. “Don’t even act like you don’t want to. I can see it in your eyes.” Jeonghan sighs contentedly, running a hand through his hair. “Oh yeah, your hair,” Wonwoo says, remembering. Suddenly, a thought occurs to him. “Did Minghao help you dye it?”

“What?” Jeonghan cries, cheeks tinting. “How did you know?”

“Don’t tell me you just played him so you could have somebody help you with your hair,” Seungcheol scolds. “That’s low, man.”

“Hey!” Jeonghan snaps, placing a hand over his heart. “I am an honest man, and I would never do that to an angel like Minghao.” He clears his throat in an attempt to distract from the overwhelmingly cheesy line he just said. “Anyway, we’re talking about Wonwoo.” The bell rings at the very moment he parts his lips to continue speaking, and Wonwoo offers thanks once more to whoever’s watching out for him today.

“So anyway,” Jihoon begins later as they find their seats at the lunch table, “ten hickeys. Don’t you think that’s a little overkill?”

“Definitely,” Soonyoung says. “But for our Jun here, it seems like underkill.”

“Why are you so intent on painting _me_ as the wild and crazy guy here?” Jun asks defensively. “I’ll have you know I _counted_ my hickeys, and I have 23.”

“Bull _shit,_ you have 23,” Jihoon grumbles. “There is no damn way.”

“There is a damn way, actually, and you found it.” Jun lowers his voice dangerously, leaning in. “I’d show you guys, most of you probably aren’t interested in seeing that much of me.” Jihoon’s mouth falls open in disbelief, his ability to discern whether Jun’s words are the truth completely gone, and Jun shoots him a smug wink.

“Could you two possibly be less disgusting?” Seungcheol asks, face completely devoid of humor. “Some of us, namely me, are trying to eat. And we, by which I mean _I_ , do not want to think about you two devouring each other while we are having an otherwise lovely meal.”

“Well, it sounds like you guys had a nice time,” Mingyu says with a cough, suddenly transforming into a 55-year-old dad.

“They aren’t the only ones that had a nice time,” Jeonghan says with a mischievous grin and violently undulating eyebrows. Wonwoo’s eyes snap wide open immediately, and he shoots daggers at Jeonghan so fiercely that they almost manifest in the physical plane. Jeonghan just maintains his cheerful smile and stares pointedly back at Wonwoo. Fortunately, Mingyu doesn’t seem to notice the muted battle that has just ensued right beside him.

“Oh yeah!” Mingyu snaps his fingers excitedly. “You and Minghao! Congratulations, hyung!” Jeonghan’s smile falters slightly at his failure to leak Wonwoo’s secret, but keeps its place nonetheless at the mention of Minghao. “Not to threaten you or anything, but he’s kind of my best friend, so if you make him sad, I will destroy you,” Mingyu says with a smile on his face, though his tone gives away nothing but seriousness. Jeonghan’s face really does drop this time.

“I won’t,” he assures Mingyu shakily. “I swear. Seriously. I’m a good guy.” He glances around the table frantically, a nervous laugh bubbling out through his lips. “Right, guys? Tell him how great I am. I’m so nice.”

“Don’t worry, hyung. I was just joking,” Mingyu assures him with a wink. Jeonghan lets out a sigh of relief. “Well, I wasn’t really joking,”Mingyu continues, “but I was sort of joking.”

“You know, Mingyu,” Jisoo muses, “you are a little terrifying. A lot terrifying, actually. I would not want to encounter you in an alley at night.”

“Are you telling me there are people you _would_ want to encounter in an alley at night?” Soonyoung asks, eyes wide with curiosity. “You’re weird as hell, Jisoo.” Instead of answering, Jisoo just sighs while a satisfied smile spreads across Soonyoung’s face. As the conversation dies down, Wonwoo keeps his eye on Jeonghan, but he doesn’t look like he’s about to say anything else. To Wonwoo’s immense delight, lunch ends quickly without anything happening. Only a few more classes to go until he’s home free.

Wonwoo isn’t actually sure why he’s so convinced that if Mingyu doesn’t say anything to him today, he won’t say anything ever, but he refuses to abandon this belief anyway. The closer the end of the school day gets, the lighter he feels, and he isn’t really willing to let anxiety take back over. When the bell rings at the end of the final period of the day, his heart leaps out of his chest. A short walk is all that stands between him and his house, and he made it through the entire day without any confrontation. He can’t help but smile as he makes his way to his locker.

Once he nears his locker, though, he realizes his excitement may have been a little premature. A familiar tall frame is leaning against the door to his locker, and Wonwoo’s getting a vague sense of déjà vu. Mingyu’s eyes are on the ground, his mouth set in a hard line, and if Wonwoo’s being honest with himself, he’s scared to death of getting any closer. He doesn’t seem able to stop his feet, though, and when he gets close enough, Mingyu looks up.

“Hey,” he says quietly, and Wonwoo already knows he doesn’t like where this is going.

“I take this as a great offense,” Wonwoo says, ignoring Mingyu’s greeting and stopping just short of where he leans against the lockers. “You stand here, blocking me from my locker, when I so graciously gave up my bed for you this weekend. My bed is my temple, you know, and I allowed you, a heretic, to rest there. Show some respect.” Mingyu laughs dryly, heaving himself off the locker and out of Wonwoo’s way.

“How many is that now, three?” he asks dully. “Is it normal for one guy to possess so many temples?”

“It is if you’re me.” Wonwoo opens his locker and begins wordlessly sorting its contents into his backpack. He’s not sure whether he’s ready to hear whatever Mingyu has to say, but he also feels like he’ll explode if this silence keeps up for much longer. It’s only once he closes the locker door and begins his journey away that Mingyu speaks again.

“Can I talk to you about something?” he asks, voice hushed. Wonwoo’s walking a little faster than he usually would in an attempt to deter conversation, but evidently Mingyu doesn’t get the message.

“Depends on what it is,” Wonwoo answers, trying to keep the mood from getting too serious.

“I’m serious,” Mingyu says, ignoring all of Wonwoo’s wishes and throwing his hard work straight into the dumpster. He grabs Wonwoo's arm to stop him, and the pair stand still in the empty hallway. “I need to ask you something.”

“What is it?” Wonwoo mumbles, struggling to meet Mingyu’s eyes. When he finally manages it, he finds in them nothing but worry, and it sends a sharp pain through his heart.

“Did you kiss me?”

Wonwoo’s too taken aback to answer right away. From the moment he saw Mingyu waiting at his locker, he’d been expecting this to happen, but he’s still surprised. For one, he hadn’t expected Mingyu to be so direct. _Would it kill him to beat around the bush for once?_ Wonwoo stares back at Mingyu’s expectant face, doing his very best to formulate a suitable response.

“What?” he says at last, showing Shakespeare what it _really_ means to have a way with words. Mingyu gnaws his lip anxiously, wringing his hands together.

“On Friday night,” he begins, lowering his voice, “at your house. Did you kiss me?” The intensity in Mingyu’s eyes sends chills down Wonwoo’s spine. He swallows a knot in his throat.

“I think… I don’t understand the question.” _Dumbass! What’s not to understand about the question?_ Wonwoo curses internally at both his mouth and his brain for lacking the ability to do anything right ever.

“Hyung, I’m being serious,” Mingyu says tiredly.

“I know,” he sighs. Mingyu raises his eyebrows expectantly, awaiting an answer to his question, but Wonwoo still isn’t sure what to say. Would lying be okay in this case? His mother always told him not to tell lies, but maybe in this specific situation, it would be permissible. Then again, this is a pretty important matter, and he knows he wouldn’t want to be lied to right now. “Maybe,” he says after a brief spell of deliberation, unable to bring himself to lie completely but simultaneously unable to bring himself to tell the truth. Mingyu doesn’t seem satisfied with this answer.

“There can’t be a maybe,” he says, slightly irritated. “Did you, or didn’t you?” His eyes are pleading, and it’s become too difficult for Wonwoo to look into them. He drops his gaze to Mingyu’s neck.

“Yeah,” he admits in a whisper. He’s too afraid to look up and see Mingyu’s reaction, so he just stands perfectly still and waits for him to say something.

“Why?” Why? _Because you looked amazing. Because you asked me to. Because I’ve got the biggest crush on you and I want to kiss you all the time. Because I wish you would like me, too. Because I—_

“I didn’t think you would remember,” Wonwoo states dumbly, and that is _absolutely not_ what he wanted to say. Shocked by his own misspeaking, his eyes snap up to look at Mingyu’s face, but his expression is hard to read. Wonwoo opens his mouth again, but it’s refusing to cooperate with him. None of the right words are seeming to find his lips at this moment, when he needs them the most.

“Really?” Mingyu spits harshly, hurt evident in his tone. “That’s it?” Finally, Wonwoo gets his mouth to form a word.

“Mingyu—”

“I gotta go,” Mingyu says angrily, backing away from Wonwoo. “I’ll see you later.” Wonwoo stands and watches him go, mind completely blank. Out of all the answers he could have given, why did it have to be that one? Why did he have to be this stupid all the time?

His brain tells him to run after Mingyu. His legs tense up in preparation. But he doesn’t go. His body won’t move. All he can bring himself to do is stand in the same spot and stare in the direction Mingyu left, wondering where he went wrong in life to screw up this badly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yahoo!! this update took a little longer than usual, but summer break is about to ensue, so hopefully this won't be a problem in the future. it's also looking like we'll be wrapping everything up within a few chapters (don't quote me on that tho). i didn't want there to be any angst in here but it looks like there's gonna be a little baby angst. whoops. anyway, i hope you all enjoyed reading the chapter! as always, feedback is greatly appreciated, and thank you for sticking with me thus far!
> 
> also if you're wondering why everyone's name in wonwoo's phone is a spoon pun, it's because that's just the kinda guy he is. there's no way to fit a spoon into choi seungcheol, though, so he had to improvise :-)


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wonwoo tries to take his mind off the problem

It takes Wonwoo a while to get back home. He meets up with the guys outside the school entrance, does his best to stay quiet, and prays none of his friends notice anything is up. They don’t. As a group, they keep up the typical brisk pace away from the school, but once they split off and start heading their separate ways, Wonwoo’s legs lose their will to move. Each step is a chore, like he’s in mud up to his waist, and his feet refuse to budge from their spots on the concrete. He can’t even will himself to move faster, either. He’s too dizzy. If he progresses any more quickly than a snail’s crawl, he might get a faceful of asphalt. Maybe that’s what he needs right now.

By the time he walks up the steps to his front door, the sun is dipping dangerously close to the horizon. He expects his mom to ask him where he’s been all afternoon when he steps inside, but all that greets him is a dark house. He flips the lights on and shuffles to the kitchen, where he finds a note from his mom on the counter. “Had to go out of town short notice… Be back tomorrow,” he mumbles, running a thumb over the twenty attached to the note by a paperclip. “The fridge is empty,” he reads aloud to nobody. “Order something to eat.” He stares at the paper in his hands for a long time, mind completely blank.

He’s not sure whether he’s relieved or upset that his mom isn’t here. On one hand, he knows she would be able to tell that something’s wrong. Maybe it’s just her maternal intuition, or maybe it’s that her eyes are too keen, but somehow, she’s always been able to know. Sometimes he doesn’t want to talk about every single thing, but she always pesters him until he does, and he doesn’t quite know if that’s what he wants right now.

On the other hand, he feels like an anvil’s been dropped on his chest, like he’s had his feet tied to cinderblocks and been dropped into the ocean, like he’s walked into a freezer and had the door locked behind him. Being alone right now may not be the most desirable option. He stares at his mom’s note until the words don’t look like words anymore and decides that he’ll just have to deal with it. He fetches his laptop from his room and sits on the couch to order a pizza online. While he waits for it to arrive, he turns on the TV.

After flipping mindlessly through the channels, he settles on cartoons. If anything’s going to help him right now, it’ll be a good cartoon. Cartoons are fun. Cartoons are happy. Cartoons make people smile. If he watches some cartoons, he’ll be back to himself in no time, like nothing ever happened. Like he never saw that look of pain in Mingyu’s eyes or saw his mouth set into such a hard line, so different from his regular smile. He keeps his eyes fixed on the television screen with an acute intensity until it occurs to him that his vision has blurred too much to see anything. When he blinks a few times and feels drops of water making their way down his face and dripping off his chin, he thinks it would probably be better to have some company after all.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, scrolling through his contacts to decide who would be best to call. Debating over the relative merits each of his friends has as an advisor and booster of morale, he eventually chooses Jun as the best person to call. He holds the phone up to his ear, and after a few rings, he hears a click on the other end of the line.

“Howdy, partner.” Jun’s voice is loud through the speakers, and just hearing somebody else speak lifts a little of the weight off of Wonwoo’s chest. “What’s shakin’?”

“Hey, can you, uh,” Wonwoo begins, amazed at how small his own voice sounds, “hang out? Like, right now?”

“Well, I—”

“Who’s on the phone?” Jihoon’s irritated voice filters faintly through the speakers. Wonwoo doesn’t know why he wasn’t expecting them to be together, but he can already sense that Jun won’t be able to come over.

“Wonwoo,” Jun answers, not even bothering to move the phone away from his mouth. “He wants to hang out.”

“Well, tell him that you need to pass math.”

“Hey,” Jun greets again as if he set down the phone. “I would love to hang out, but Jihoon says I need to pass math, so I can’t. Sorry.”

“Hey, don’t say ‘Jihoon says’ like it’s my decision alone and you don’t need the credit to graduate,” Jihoon’s muffled voice snaps. “Give me the phone.” Wonwoo can practically hear his extended hand.

“No, no,” Jun says, “I got it. Well, you know how he is. I guess we’ll have to hang out next time.” Wonwoo hears the sound of someone, almost guaranteed to be Jun, being hit followed by quiet laughter before the line goes dead. He heaves a heavy sigh. It wouldn’t bother him so much that Jun couldn’t come over if Jihoon hadn’t been the second person on his list of people to call. Resigning himself to option #3, he scrolls to Soonyoung’s contact and hits the button to call.

The phone rings for a little longer than it did with Jun, and Wonwoo’s starting to get scared he won’t pick up, but then he suddenly hears a click on the other end.

“Hey,” Soonyoung whispers so quietly Wonwoo can barely tell he’s speaking. “What’s up?”

“Uh… Why are you whispering?” Wonwoo can’t help but be a little concerned. “Are you in the middle of something?”

“Kinda,” he breathes back. “I told Seokmin I was going home when he went to do errands, but actually I came to his house and told his mom not to tell him I was here, and now I’m hiding in his closet so I can jump out and surprise serenade him when he gets back.” He wheezes out the quietest chuckle Wonwoo has ever heard. “He’s gonna love it.”

“Yeah, I’m sure he will.” The smallest of smiles forms on Wonwoo’s lips at the mental image of Soonyoung bursting out of a closet in song. It feels foreign on his face.

“Anyway, did you need something?”

“Nah, it’s nothing,” he sighs, figuring there’s no use in interrupting Soonyoung’s grand romantic plan. Why does it seem like everyone picked today to be busy?

“Are you s—OH shit, I think Seokmin’s home,” he whispers frantically. “Sorry, dude, I’ll call you later.” Before Wonwoo can even tell him not to bother, he’s already hung up.

Wonwoo continues making his way down his list of friends. Next up is Seungcheol, who doesn’t even pick up the phone, at which point Wonwoo remembers he just got a job teaching karate to kindergarteners, so it looks like he’s not up for consideration. Next is Jisoo, who answers up only to tell Wonwoo that he’s got a huge essay for some elective class due tomorrow which he has barely written nine words of, and he really doesn’t need a throwaway class dragging down his GPA this late in the game. Letting out a defeated breath, he scrolls to the very last person he has to call.

He doesn’t want to call Jeonghan. Every fiber of his being is telling him not to do it. He knows there’s no way he can safely tell Jeonghan anything, and he has no desire to talk to him about this in the first place. But he can’t just cut his losses and stay alone either. Not when it feels like he’s being suffocated by his own breaths. Not when it feels like he’s been buried to his neck in cement. With a heart full of anxiety, he taps Jeonghan’s name and hopes desperately that he’ll answer. To his great surprise, the phone gets picked up after the first ring.

“Hey,” Jeonghan’s voice bubbles with excitement. For some reason, it puts Wonwoo at ease. “What’s going on, Ron?”

“Can you,” Wonwoo begins tensely, fear of being denied again suddenly washing over him in full force, “come hang out right now?”

“Can I…?” Jeonghan muses. Wonwoo feels his chest start to tighten. _No way. Every single one of my friends is busy at the one time that I need them. I—_ “I guess I can. Do you just want me to come over to your house?”

“Yeah, that’d be great.” Wonwoo can honestly say he never thought he’d feel this grateful to be able to hang out with Jeonghan, but at the moment, he’s too near tears to care about that. He’s so touched that he doesn’t even say goodbye to Jeonghan when he hangs up because he’s afraid of crying over the phone and scaring him. He makes a note to himself never to discount Jeonghan’s value as a friend again.

Not a minute after he gets off the phone, the doorbell rings. Unless Jeonghan’s become incredibly athletic in the past three days, it’s probably the pizza man. Wonwoo grabs the money his mom left him and heads to the door. He does a great job of holding himself together as he pays the guy for his pizza, but the second he parts his lips to thank him, he bursts into tears. The pizza guy just stands and watches him with concerned eyes, but Wonwoo’s sobbing too hard to tell him that he’s fine, though it’s not like he would believe that anyway. Since it seems to be his only option, he just shuts the door in the delivery boy’s face, hoping he will understand and leave.

Almost immediately after doing so, he hears a heavy knock on the door, and he really doesn’t want to answer it, but he also doesn’t want the pizza guy to just keep standing in front of his door waiting for answers that will never come. Swallowing his tears to the best of his ability, he swings the door back open, only to find that the pizza man has been replaced by not just Jeonghan, but Minghao as well. Jeonghan leads the way in with a wide smile.

“Hey, Won—” Jeonghan cuts himself off when he sees Wonwoo’s face, smile falling completely out of sight. “Whoa, are you okay?” Wonwoo opens his mouth, but there’s a lump in his throat too big to talk around, so after a few seconds of struggling, he just gives up and shakes his head. Clutching the pizza box tightly to his chest, he leads the pair to the living room, where he plops down on the couch and immediately commences devouring a slice of pizza as fast as possible. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Minghao and Jeonghan watching him in a state of extreme worry, but he doesn’t stop. His gut is telling him he’ll feel better after he eats, so he keeps going until the whole slice is finished.

“Sorry,” he manages once he swallows the last bite, turning his eyes to Minghao and Jeonghan apologetically. “I didn’t think you’d get here so fast.”

“Well,” Jeonghan begins, taking a seat on the couch and pulling Minghao down beside him, “I guess that explains why the pizza guy looked so confused.” Wonwoo just nods solemnly, regretting not giving the guy a bigger tip. After a short while of silence, Jeonghan clears his throat. “So… do you wanna talk about it?” Wonwoo looks hesitantly back and forth between the two.

“I don’t know,” he admits unsteadily. “But thanks for coming.” Suddenly, he’s hit with the realization that the two were probably trying to spend time together as a couple and he totally interrupted it. “If you guys were doing something, you didn’t have to come over. I didn’t mean to—”

“We weren’t doing anything,” Minghao assures him with a thumbs up. “We were actually trying to come up with something to do when you called Jeonghan. Is it okay that I’m here, though?”

“It’s fine,” Wonwoo says. He’s actually a little relieved to have Minghao here. He’s much calmer than Jeonghan typically is, and as a part of that, he seems to have mellowed Jeonghan out a little, which is good. Wonwoo doesn’t need a lot of energy right now, he just needs not to be alone.

“If you don’t want to talk about it,” Jeonghan starts, “maybe we can just get your mind off it. Do you want to watch a movie?” Figuring it can’t possibly turn out worse than the cartoons did earlier, Wonwoo nods. “Great. So do you have one you want to watch in particular?” Scrunching his nose, Wonwoo wracks his brain trying to think of any movie that usually cheers him up, but to no avail; all he gets is a head full of fuzz. When Jeonghan realizes he has no answer, he assumes responsibility for the decision. “I’ve got one we can watch, then,” he says enthusiastically. “It’s hilarious. You’re gonna love it.” Before Wonwoo can stop him, he’s on his feet and fiddling around with everything, and in no time at all, he’s got the movie starting up on the screen. “It’s so funny,” he points out again, settling back on the couch next to Minghao.

Wonwoo won’t act like it’s not funny. Sure, he’s seen funnier, but that doesn’t stop him from breathing out occasional chuckles. He’ll willingly admit to the humor. But the main character’s eyes remind him too much of Mingyu to let it be funny enough to take his mind off what’s worrying him. On top of that, Jeonghan has been snuggling into Minghao’s side and giggling quietly ever since the movie started, which Wonwoo typically would not mind, but Jeonghan picked out this movie and he has yet to look at the screen even once. Something about their closeness bothers him, too, though Wonwoo hates himself for thinking it. The way they can be so near each other when he’s just accidentally hurt the one person he’d like to hold that way is just more salt in his wounds, but there’s not much he can do besides deal with it.

After about fifteen minutes, Wonwoo hears telltale even breathing from the other side of the couch and looks over to see that, unsurprisingly, Jeonghan has fallen fast asleep. Minghao has an arm around Jeonghan’s curled form, gently rubbing his back, but his eyes are fixed unfalteringly on the screen, completely absorbed in the movie. Wonwoo’s kind of amazed; to look at the scene, you’d think they’ve been together for years, not just a few days. He’s also impressed with Minghao’s uncommon ability to deal with Jeonghan. On more than one occasion in the past, he’s gotten into fights after accidentally falling asleep during a supposed date, but Minghao doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest.

Wonwoo only realizes he’s been staring at the couple when he sees a vaguely puzzled Minghao staring straight back into his eyes. He’s suddenly certain that he must have had an irritated expression on his face just now, and a wave of fresh guilt washes into the pool of it he’s already got. “I am so sorry,” he blurts before Minghao has the chance to say anything. “I was just, uh, thinking that you guys complement each other well.” A shy smile forms at Minghao’s lips, and his cheeks tint faintly.

“Thank you,” he mumbles, and now Wonwoo almost feels worse because that was a super weird thing to say. He tries to think of something else he can say to prevent the impending awkward silence from ensuing, but Minghao beats him to the punch. “I know Jeonghan’s the one you called,” he begins, gently patting the boy in his arms, “but you can talk to me about what’s bothering you if you want.”

“What?” Wonwoo asks blankly, surprised by the sudden offer. In an instant, Minghao’s face has gone from slightly flustered to completely serious, and it catches Wonwoo off guard. “I don’t really ne—”

“It’s fine if you don’t want to tell me,” he interrupts, “but I can tell that you need to talk about it. As much as you’re trying to focus on the movie, it’s pretty clear your thoughts are elsewhere.” Wonwoo can’t bring himself to do anything but gaze back at him wordlessly, shocked at how easily he’s been read. After another minute of silence passes, Minghao speaks up again. “Does it have something to do with Mingyu?”

Wonwoo’s pulse quickens at just the sound of the name, eyes growing wide. _Is it that obvious?_ He searches Minghao’s face desperately, but he doesn’t even know what he’s looking for. No matter what it is, all he finds is a set of eyes full of compassion. “How did you know?” he asks tentatively.

“Just a hunch,” Minghao admits, a small smile playing at his lips. “Do you want me to wake Jeonghan up?”

“No,” Wonwoo says a little too quickly, and Minghao quirks his eyebrows. No offense to Jeonghan, but he’s really the last person Wonwoo wants to talk to about anything; not only that, but Wonwoo already feels like he can trust Minghao. “I’d rather talk to you, actually, if that’s okay,” he says. _Sorry, Jeonghan. I’ll by you an ice cream sometime, so don’t feel too betrayed._

“Well, I did offer,” Minghao reminds him, eyes twinkling. Wonwoo nods his head nervously and takes a few deep breaths, trying to formulate the best way of explaining the situation.

“So, I kissed Mingyu on Friday night,” he says shakily after a bit of contemplation. “You already know that he thought I might have. Jeonghan told me he called you.” Minghao nods in affirmation, expression asking Wonwoo to continue. “Yeah, so I _did_ actually kiss him. And then today, he asked me if I did, so obviously I told him yes because I’m not just going to lie,” he continues as if he didn’t seriously consider lying. “And then he asked me why. And I…” Mingyu’s face from that afternoon floods his brain again, and there’s suddenly a sizable lump forming in his throat that’s keeping the rest of the words back. “I…” He feels a familiar sting in his eyes, and _God_ , he does not want to cry again.

“What did you do?” Minghao presses gently, offering a supportive smile.

“I told him,” he chokes out, “that it was because… I thought… he wouldn’t remember.” The pain in Mingyu’s eyes is all he can think about when he feels a hot tear sliding down his face. He wipes it away quickly and gulps hard, taking a few shallow breaths in and out. He does his best to keep looking at Minghao, who is mostly expressionless aside from slightly raised eyebrows. He nods his head, urging Wonwoo to continue, but he’s having a tough time speaking. “But that wasn’t…” He shakes his head violently, hoping the motion will force the words to come out. “It wasn’t…”

“It wasn’t the truth?” Minghao supplies. Wonwoo starts to nod, but then stops. Technically, it _is_ true that he thought Mingyu wouldn’t remember. It just wasn’t what he intended to say, wasn’t the _whole_ truth. He starts moving his hands around in nonsensical gestures, hoping Minghao will miraculously understand. After looking on for a while, completely flummoxed, Minghao hazards another guess. “It wasn’t what you wanted to say?” Wonwoo nods in relief. _Minghao must be the smartest guy I have ever met._ “What did you want to say, then?” Wonwoo chokes the oncoming tears back a little bit more, regaining some confidence in speaking.

“It’s true that I didn’t think he would remember,” Wonwoo explains, “but that wasn’t it. It wasn’t the reason. There were so many reasons.” He sighs, bringing a hand to his forehead. “You should’ve seen the way he looked at me.” He lets out a mirthless chuckle. “I really screwed up.”

“Well, you should just tell him what you meant to say,” Minghao says matter-of-factly.

“No. There’s no way. If you had seen the look in his eyes…” Wonwoo sinks further into the couch. “He hates me.”

“No offense, Wonwoo,” Minghao starts in a playfully irked tone, “but I have known Mingyu for _much_ longer than you have, and I swear on my life that he does not hate you.”

“But—”

“Absolutely not. I know what I’m talking about.” He gives Wonwoo a stern look before smiling and continuing. “I’m sure he’s upset right now, but Mingyu is a good guy. He’s sweet. He’s reasonable. He’s kind of annoying sometimes, but he always listens.” Minghao grins fondly. “I’m 100% certain he doesn’t hate you.”

“What do I do, then?”

“Just like I said. Tell him what you meant to say.” Jeonghan shifts in his sleep, nuzzling closer to Minghao’s side and prompting him to drop his voice to a whisper. “Whenever you see him. Tomorrow. Just make sure you tell him, and make sure he understands. I promise he will.”

“Thanks, Minghao. That helped a lot,” Wonwoo says, looking at the boy in awe from across the couch. Without even noticing it, the weight on his chest all but disappeared, only a tiny little bit of pressure left. He never expected talking to a guy he barely knows would make him feel so much lighter, yet it does. He watches Minghao trace soft circles on Jeonghan’s back with the palm of his hand, looking down affectionately at the man in his arms. “Hey, Minghao?” Wonwoo asks, snapping him to attention. “I know I say a lot of shit about Jeonghan, but he’s a good guy and one of my closest friends. Take care of him, okay?” A warm smile stretches across Minghao’s face, his eyes twinkling as he responds.

“Of course,” he says, honey dripping from his words. “I plan on doing nothing else.”

Having gotten the problem almost entirely off his chest, Wonwoo is finally able to sit back and enjoy the movie. Begrudgingly, he admits Jeonghan was right about it being hilarious, though he’s still miffed that he didn’t even watch it himself. Before the whole thing is over, it manages to elicit some real, good laughs straight out of Wonwoo’s stomach, and those help him feel better, too. When the credits start rolling, Minghao shakes Jeonghan gently to rouse him from his slumber.

“Hey, wake up,” he whispers sweetly. “The movie’s over.”

“Huh?” Jeonghan asks groggily, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “Minghao? What are you doing in my bed?” He blinks a few times, a cheeky grin rising to his lips. “Not that I mind.”

“This is my couch, actually,” Wonwoo butts in, ruining their almost-moment. He’s not about to watch them be disgustingly mushy right before his eyes, especially not in his own home. “You just fell asleep during a movie that _you_ selected to watch, you know.”

“Oh yeah!” Jeonghan sits up, pre-nap memories slowly returning to him. “Did you like it? It was funny, right?”

“It was terrible. I hated it.”

“He’s lying,” Minghao says, stopping the look of sadness easing its way onto Jeonghan’s face from making a full appearance. “He laughed a lot, don’t worry. I heard him.” Jeonghan visibly relaxes, wrapping his arms around Minghao and burying his face in his chest.

“Why is he so cruel to me?” he grumbles, muffled by the body in front of him. “I am such a nice guy, possibly the nicest guy ever, and yet I have to deal with this bullshit all the time. It’s completely unjust.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Minghao sighs, patting his back. “We can talk about that later, though. It’s getting a little late.” Jeonghan bolts up immediately.

“Damn, you’re right!” Wonwoo isn’t sure how Jeonghan confirms this without even looking at a clock, but he decides not to question it.  “Sorry, Wonwoo, but we should probably get going.”

“That’s fine,” Wonwoo says, rising to usher them to the door. “Thanks for coming over, seriously. I’ll treat you to ice cream sometime.”

“Whoa, for real?” Jeonghan asks, astonished, as Minghao pulls him out into the night air. “I’m gonna come over and fall asleep on your couch more often.”

“Please don’t.”

He sends the couple on their way with a wave, watches them walk hand-in-hand until they reach the sidewalk, then withdraws back into the house. He reclaims his spot on the couch to continue eating the now-cold pizza and thinks a little bit more about his conversation with Minghao. _Just tell him what I meant to say?_ Well, it sure seemed like a great idea when Minghao mentioned it, but Wonwoo is just now realizing that this plan will entail confessing his feelings to Mingyu, which he had not really planned on doing at all in the first place. He tells himself it’s fine, though, because he doesn’t have to deal with it until tomorrow. All he needs to do is think of how exactly he wants to tiptoe around the issue, and he’s got the whole rest of the night to get that squared away.

Leaning back into the cushions of the couch and taking another bite of pizza, he tries to start formulating an idea of what he wants to say, but he isn’t really sure where to start. There isn’t a way to explain himself without laying his feelings out explicitly, but he’s scared to death to do that; however, he’s arguably more scared to have Mingyu hate him forever over one misspoken line. Letting out a heavy sigh, he steels his brain and goes into complete concentration mode, resolving not to let anything distract him until he’s got everything sorted out.

Maybe he’s got bad luck. Maybe the universe is actively working against him. Whichever it is, it chooses this precise moment to make Wonwoo’s phone ring and snap him straight out of the zone of focus he had only just entered. He picks up the phone after a little hesitation, deciding it could be an important call from his mom that he shouldn’t ignore, but finds that the call is coming from an unknown number. He rejects it immediately and sets his phone back down to resume thinking, but almost before it’s even left his grip, it’s ringing again. He looks at the screen and, seeing the same number as a minute ago, decides it’ll save him aggravation in the long run if he just answers it now.

“Hyung.” The voice on the other end of the line is already speaking from the second he hits answer. It’s deep and melancholy and tired, and Wonwoo knows exactly whose it is.

“Mingyu?” he asks incredulously, shock boosting him directly onto his feet. “Where did you get my number?” _Is that the right question? Wouldn’t it be more normal for us to have each other’s numbers?_ Wonwoo shakes his head violently. “Actually, never mind that. Do you need something?” He hears Mingyu take in a breath, and the sound sends his heart into overdrive.

“I’m outside your house,” Mingyu says softly, ignoring both questions. “Can you come outside so we can talk?” Wonwoo dashes to the window at the front of the house before answering, and sure enough, there stands Mingyu’s unmistakable silhouette on the sidewalk, phone to his ear. Wonwoo tries to get a look at his expression, but in vain; it’s too dark, and he’s too far away.

“Sure. I’ll be right out,” he says after a while when he realizes that he has yet to answer.

“Thanks,” Mingyu says quietly, and Wonwoo watches from the window as he hangs up the phone and drops his arm to his side. Wonwoo feels himself starting to sweat as he walks out the front door, nerves prickling at the thought of seeing Mingyu so soon. He already knew he would have to face Mingyu again after this afternoon.  How could he not? He’d just been banking on having a lot more time to get his thoughts in order, and as of this moment, exactly 0 of them are in order. Once he gets close enough, he can see the look on Mingyu’s face, and it does nothing to make him feel better. All that same strain from earlier is still there, and it ties Wonwoo’s stomach into a billion knots.

“Hey,” Mingyu mumbles when Wonwoo stops in front of him. His eyes are fixed hard on Wonwoo’s face, and it’s making it really difficult for him to maintain eye contact.

“What’s up?” Wonwoo asks, trying to be casual. He’s not exactly sure where he stands with Mingyu right now, and it terrifies him. He tries to keep what Minghao said in mind, that he’s _certain_ Mingyu doesn’t hate him, but it’s hard when he can see the ice in those eyes.

“I did some thinking, and I have something else to ask you.” Wonwoo’s heart is only prevented from stopping right there by a certain smell that wafts into his nostrils.

“Whoa, Mingyu,” Wonwoo says, taking a small step closer and lowering his voice. “Are you drunk again?”

“No,” Mingyu asserts, slightly irritated, though Wonwoo’s nose tells him a different story. “I had a little to drink, that’s all. I’m not drunk.”

“You told me not to let you drink again, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember that,” he says bitterly, and Wonwoo wishes he hadn’t mentioned it. “I needed it, though. Just a little courage.” _Courage?_ Wonwoo decides not to ask questions. Mingyu clears his throat. “It’s about what you said earlier. About thinking I wouldn’t remember.”

“Wait, Mingyu, I—”

“No,” Mingyu cuts in, holding up his hand. “Please. Just let me talk.” Wonwoo’s face colors a little and he gives Mingyu a small nod, barely able to hear the next few words over his own heartbeat. “I just want to know if you considered my feelings at all.” Wonwoo has to close his eyes to keep himself calm, but Mingyu grabs his shoulder. “Hey, look at me, hyung. I just wanna know. Maybe you want to forget it, but don’t you think…” He gulps, eyes shining. “Don’t you think I deserve to remember?” He searches Wonwoo’s face, but all Wonwoo can do is stand perfectly still and wait for the words to sink in.

“What?” he asks at length, and Mingyu groans.

“Just,” he begins, abandoning his grip on Wonwoo’s shoulder and moving his hands around in circles, “don’t you think it’s unfair?” Wonwoo stares blankly back at him and waits for Mingyu to explain, trying his very best not to let himself get his hopes up. “I mean, after I’ve dreamed about it so many times, I finally got to kiss you. And you didn’t… you didn’t even think I should get to remember that.” Wonwoo watches with wide eyes as Mingyu struggles to keep tears from squeezing out. “Why don’t I deserve that?”

“I’m sorry,” Wonwoo whispers, and before Mingyu has any time to stop him, he’s closed the gap between them.

That probably wasn’t the best course of action. Wonwoo’s sure he could have verbally explained the misunderstanding, but he refuses to let himself back out now. He’s already committed to the kiss, and he’s desperately hoping Mingyu will understand what he’s trying to convey. At first, Mingyu just stands completely frozen, sprouting a seed of dread in the pit of Wonwoo’s stomach, but after a minute, he feels Mingyu’s arms wrap around him, enveloping him in a comfortable warmth. He lets a hand slide up Mingyu’s back, pressing their bodies closer together.

Mingyu tastes like alcohol again, but it’s far more subdued this time, letting the sweetness come through more strongly. Wonwoo’s so stressed about messing up a second time that he almost forgets to notice how nice it is to be kissing Mingyu. The softness of his lips and their peculiar honeyed flavor, the feel of his arms hugging Wonwoo and their warmth. He almost lets himself miss all of it, but by some miracle, he remembers to appreciate this for what it is: a good kiss with a boy he likes. After a solid minute, Wonwoo breaks away to look Mingyu in the eyes.

“Uh, hyung?” Mingyu asks nervously, gnawing on his lip. “What was that?”

“You’ll remember that,” Wonwoo begins. “Right?” Mingyu nods slowly and parts his lips to speak, but Wonwoo raises a hand to silence him. He needs to push through this. “And you’ll remember the next one, too. And the next one after that, alright? I’ll kiss you as many times as you want to remember.”

“I don’t think I understand?” Mingyu says oddly, quirking his head to the side. “Hyung, are you saying—”

“What I’m _saying_ ,” Wonwoo interjects, pressing a fingertip to Mingyu’s lips, “is yeah, I didn’t think you would remember it. I didn’t think you would _want_ to remember it. But that’s got nothing to do with _why_ I kissed you.” He takes a deep breath to prepare himself for the stream of consciousness he’s about to release, then lets the words fall from his tongue like raindrops from a cloud. “You were drunk and you asked me to kiss you. That’s why. And I also wanted to. You looked so damn good, and you make my chest tighten every day with that smile and everything else about you, and holy _shit_ , I have got the biggest damn crush on you, and I just wanted to kiss you so bad.” Mingyu raises his eyebrows after Wonwoo’s done, a small smile threatening to grace his lips.

“Is that true?” he asks in a low voice, pulling Wonwoo in a little closer. “Did you really mean all that?”

“No,” Wonwoo sighs, “this is just a very involved prank.” He buries his head in Mingyu’s shoulder to hide the blush creeping to his cheeks. _I can’t believe I just said everything like that._ “Of course it’s true.” Mingyu pulls Wonwoo back and forces him to look up. His eyes are twinkling, and a full grin has spread itself across his face.

“Hyung, are you confessing to me right now?” he asks giddily, eyes full of mischief.

“Are you going to reciprocate if I am?” Wonwoo asks in response, unable to suppress the slight upward curl of his lips.

“’Reciprocate’?” Mingyu says, amused. “Nice nerd word, hyung.”

“I’ve got plenty more where that came from.”

They stand like that for a while, just smiling like idiots and staring into each other’s eyes from inches apart. The pressure that had been crushing Wonwoo’s chest earlier has been completely replaced by something lighter than air. He feels warm, like he’s just eaten a ray of sunshine, and he doesn’t think it would be half bad to feel like this for the rest of his life. Mingyu reaches up to brush some of the hair back out of Wonwoo’s eyes.

“Hey,” he starts but doesn’t say anything else, prompting Wonwoo to pull it out of him.

“What is it?”

“Can I kiss you again?” A sudden chill breeze sweeps by and makes Wonwoo shiver, reminding him of their location.

“Why don’t you come inside?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA okay i'm done screaming. the chapter is a little bit longer this time, but i hope you all enjoyed it!!! also not as funny as usual (are the other chapters even funny. i don't fuckin know) but yeah, i hope you all liked it! sorry again about the little baby cliffhanger last time. i never wanted to hurt you all, but i cannot stop my sinful hands. anyway, it looks like we'll be wrapping up in about 3(?) more chapters maybe. OH YEAH I JUST REMEMBERED WE HIT 200 KUDOS! WHAT THE HELL THANK YOU SO MUCH! ok but yeah, thanks to everyone for sticking around so far, and i hope you are all enjoying the story. as always, feedback is greatly appreciated! see you next time!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mingyu comes into Wonwoo's house.

Wonwoo leads Mingyu into his house by the hand, and something about the novelty of the gesture makes it strangely more intimate than a kiss. He flicks off the lights as they wander to the couch, opting instead to turn on a lamp, and reclines lengthwise onto the cushions, pulling Mingyu down with him. The way the dim light reflects in his eyes sends a spark of something through Wonwoo’s body; he’s not sure what it is, but he’s definitely a fan.

Mingyu eases slowly onto his knees, wrapping his arms around Wonwoo as he lowers himself, smile unmoving from his features. His eyes twinkle as he stares at the boy in front of him, noting every detail of his face even in the low light. He breathes out an airy chuckle before leaning in to press their lips together again. Wonwoo loops his arms around his neck as he does, bringing them just a little closer when they sink back onto the couch.

Neither of them can stop smiling, which makes kissing a little more difficult than usual, but they’ll be damned if they’re going to let that stop them now. Wonwoo clings to Mingyu as tightly as he possibly can to keep the mass of butterflies in his stomach from bursting out. He feels like he’s seconds away from floating straight up into the stratosphere, like he needs to hold Mingyu to keep himself tethered to the ground. His heart is hammering in his chest so hard he thinks his ribs might break, but he doesn’t want it to stop. He figures his ribs can take one for the team.

With the tension behind their kiss earlier all sorted out, he’s _really_ able to enjoy it this time around. Threading his fingers through Mingyu’s hair, he lets his eyes droop closed, reveling in the feeling of their mouths together. With the taste of alcohol almost completely gone, he can finally appreciate just how sweet Mingyu is, and he wants more. He ventures to slip the tip of his tongue between Mingyu’s lips, not failing to notice Mingyu’s sharp inhale of surprise. Opening his eyes slightly, he finds Mingyu’s already wide and hums a laugh when he recalls how Drunk Mingyu had been zealously making this move just a few days ago, an endearing contrast with the somewhat more timid Mingyu of today.

He sighs as he slides his tongue in again, a little more this time, and Mingyu seems to welcome it now, pressing their bodies down further on the sofa. Wonwoo doesn’t know how long it’s been since he’s felt like this, like he’s turning molten inside, but he’s glad to feel it again, somehow gladder that it’s with Mingyu. He lets his hand leave Mingyu’s hair to slide down his back, fingertips just brushing against his spine. His body shakes with suppressed chuckles when Wonwoo’s hand reaches the end of his torso, fingers dipping beneath the hem of his shirt. _Is he ticklish?_

Wonwoo’s hand glides over to his side, and much to his delight, Mingyu shudders even more. He lowers his other hand to employ himself fully in teasing Mingyu, breaking the kiss with a smile once he starts laughing too hard to keep it up, peals of Mingyu’s infectious laughter resonating throughout the room. Seeing his aim, Mingyu tries desperately to either stop him or tickle back, whichever he can get to happen first, but his arms won’t cooperate with him. When Wonwoo finally stops, he collapses on his chest with the faintest trace of a smile still on his face, back rising steadily up and down as he tries to regain his breath.

“You know,” Wonwoo says with a smile, ruffling Mingyu’s hair, “you can be really cute.” Mingyu’s smile grows impossibly wide as he remains subdued, proving Wonwoo’s words true immediately. He pulls a hand from underneath the body below him to push Wonwoo’s hair back, propping his face up on his chin to make eye contact and gazing for just a little while before letting out a breathless laugh.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” he whispers, barely loud enough to be heard. “I feel like I’m dreaming.” He sighs, burying his face in Wonwoo’s chest again. Wonwoo feels the next words hum through his ribcage. “I better not be.” Wonwoo rubs his back warmly, letting out a breath and turning his eyes to the ceiling.

“I can say the same,” he muses, tracing light circles over Mingyu’s shoulder blades. “I never expected you to like me back,” he admits, drawing Mingyu’s face back up to look at him.

“You know, hyung,” he begins with a lilt of humor in his tone, “you’re smart, but you’re a little dumb.” Wonwoo stares back at him, dumbfounded.

“Are you trying to start a fight already?”

“No, no,” he insists, shaking his head just barely. “But do you remember when we played truth or dare?”

“Of course. It was, like, three days ago.”

“Right,” Mingyu chuckles, reaching up to brush a little more of Wonwoo’s hair away from his eyes. “And you recall I was dared to kiss the most attractive person in the room?” Wonwoo nods, slowly catching on. “But I said I couldn’t because I didn’t think he would let me.” Heat rises to his cheeks as understanding starts to set in. “Who else could that be but you, hyung?” Wonwoo covers his face with both hands to hide his embarrassment. “You seriously didn’t realize?” He doesn’t need to see Mingyu’s face to know that he’s smiling like an idiot.

“It could have been any number of people,” he argues through his fingers. “Nothing says it had to be me.” He peeks past his hands to see Mingyu’s eyebrow arched skeptically. “Leave me alone. There’s no way I could’ve known.”

“It seemed obvious to me.”

“Of _course_ it seemed obvious to you,” Wonwoo snorts, dropping his hand shield. “You actually know what the hell is going on inside your head.” He pauses briefly, twisting his fingers absentmindedly in Mingyu’s hair. “I would’ve let you, by the way.”

“How was I supposed to know that?” Mingyu sounds aggravated, but he’s still smiling giddily. “It’s not like you told me.”

“Well, I didn’t exactly think there was any chance you would ever feel the same,” he snorts.

“Didn’t you say earlier that I _asked_ you to kiss me when I was drunk?” Mingyu asks. “Did that not seem like an indication to you, either?” Wonwoo throws his hands in the air.

“I thought you just wanted affection in general!” he cries defensively. “Like, maybe I was just a filler for somebody else.” Mingyu scoffs.

“Oh, Wonwoo,” he mumbles lowly, creeping forward until their faces are just moments away from each other. “I haven’t had eyes for anyone but you since the first day of school.”

“Seriously?” Wonwoo whispers in shock, eyes wide. There’s no way it could possibly be true, and yet Mingyu nods. His heart’s picking its pace back up again.

“On the very first day of class when I saw you, I just thought, ‘Wow,’” he explains, eyes shimmering at the memory. “I’d never seen someone so good-looking in my whole life. And when you got assigned to be my partner, I was like, ‘Holy shit. Someone’s really looking out for me.’ And then when I heard your voice—” He cuts himself off suddenly with a huff, knocking his forehead onto Wonwoo’s chin. “You know, I thought I could do it, but actually telling you this is really embarrassing.”

“You don’t have to keep going,” Wonwoo says as he pats the back of Mingyu’s head, face feeling like it’s been engulfed in flames. “I think I get it.” Mingyu breathes a sigh of relief, shifting to nestle his head into the side of Wonwoo’s neck. “And just so you’re not the only one embarrassed,” he coughs, “I didn’t get any sleep the night after the first day of school because I couldn’t stop thinking about your smile.” Mingyu springs up immediately, flashing the aforementioned smile.

“Really?” Wonwoo can’t do a thing to keep himself from smiling in return, the enthusiasm in Mingyu’s voice leaking through the air.

“Really,” he says, and Mingyu eyes him carefully for just a moment before diving in to lock their lips together.

He slides his hand under Wonwoo’s shirt, fingertips ghosting ever so lightly over his back, each touch sending a shock of electricity through his system. He lets out a sigh when Mingyu puts his other hand on his neck, thumb stroking gently along his jaw. The realization that he’s kissing Mingyu, that Mingyu feels the same way he does, still has yet to sink in, every second a fresh wave of realization that what’s happening right now is reality and not just some beautiful dream. His brain is melting into a puddle of goo, but his body moves on its own.

Following Mingyu’s example, he lets his hands meet bare skin as well, traveling up Mingyu’s back and around to his chest, feeling every muscle along the way. He’s more toned than Wonwoo expected, and something about that is driving his hands in a desperate attempt to pull off Mingyu’s shirt. After enough struggling, Mingyu gets the memo and whips the shirt off himself. Wonwoo is barely able to restrain the gasp that rises to his throat. All that gorgeous skin, that toned chest, those arms, they’re all out in the open for Wonwoo to see, and until this moment, he’d never realized just how much he wanted to see everything.

He lunges forward before either his brain or his body knows what’s happening, pinning Mingyu down on the other side of the couch as he takes his lips again. His hands have minds of their own, gripping Mingyu’s arms, shoulders, back, neck, everything. He presses their mouths together hungrily, suddenly _needing_ to have every sense filled with Mingyu, a burn in his chest he’s never felt before threatening to tear him open from the inside. He feels insistent hands tugging at his shirt, but he’s too afraid to break the kiss, scared that if he lets Mingyu go for even a second now, he’ll just slip through his fingers like sand.

Without warning, as if it ever comes with a warning, his phone starts ringing. It startles him so much that he nearly headbutts Mingyu straight in his nose, but thankfully, he evades that disaster by freezing up completely. After taking a second to realize what’s happening, he leans back to grab his phone with ragged breaths and answers without even checking to see who’s calling. Mingyu watches quizzically, red-faced and touching tenderly at his lips. Wonwoo feels a pang of guilt, delayed realization at how rough he’d just been finally sinking into his brain.

“Seoksoon call!” chants a duo of familiar, excited voices on the other end of the line, overbearing loudness nearly knocking Wonwoo to the floor. “Soonseok call! Wonwoo call! This is a phone call!” Wonwoo almost can’t believe they came up with such a dumb greeting, but at the same time, he wouldn’t believe anything less.

“Hey,” Wonwoo pants, doing his best to even his breaths out so they won’t notice anything.

“Were you exercising, Wonwoo?” Soonyoung asks, taking custody of the phone. Apparently, it’s already too late for that. “You sound a little out of breath.”

“Uhh, yeah. Just a little.” He sees a smirk form on Mingyu’s lips, and looking at him is suddenly too embarrassing. “Anyway, what do you need?”

“Wasn’t it you who needed something?” Soonyoung sounds vaguely confused. “You _did_ call me earlier, right?”

“Oh.” He takes a glance at Mingyu before continuing. “That’s all sorted out now, but thanks.” Mingyu raises his eyebrows, bemused. “Oh yeah, how did your surprise serenade go?”

“He hit me in the nose with the door!” Seokmin shrieks suddenly, bursting into raucous laughter, and Soonyoung cackles with him. “My nose!” he squeals between guffaws. “My poor nose!”

“Seriously?”

“In my defense,” Soonyoung starts, doing his very best to suppress further giggles, “I wasn’t expecting him to be standing so close to the closet.”

“And yet I _was_ standing so close to the closet,” Seokmin adds as if he’s recalling some fond memory from days long gone. “You should’ve seen the nosebleed I got, Wonwoo. It was unbelievable.”

“But the important thing,” Soonyoung butts in noisily, “is that his nose isn’t broken, and he still let me sing the rest of the song to him while we drove to the hospital.”

“Well, you have a beautiful voice, dear.” Seokmin’s voice drips sugar.

“Oh, honey… Not as beautiful as you.” Wonwoo clears his throat to remind the couple that he’s still on the phone, but they don’t seem to hear. Mingyu quakes with laughter. “Right,” Soonyoung says eventually, remembering at long last that he’s currently making a call. “So, are you sure you don’t need anything?”

“Yeah, I’m fine now, but thanks for calling. Sorry about Seokmin’s nose.”

“I’m sorry about it, too!” Seokmin wails bitterly from way too close to the microphone, partially rupturing Wonwoo’s eardrum.

“Anyway,” Soonyoung says as he struggles to tear the phone back, “if you’re really sure you don’t need anything, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I’m good. See you tomorrow.”

“Bye!” he chirps as Seokmin breaks into an ungodly scream. Wonwoo hears several seconds too long of the piercing cry before the call is ended, and he desperately hopes the ringing in his ears will disappear soon. Once he’s set the phone down, he turns to see Mingyu staring at him, eyes full of questions. He raises his eyebrows and waits for one to be asked of him, and soon enough, Mingyu takes the cue.

“What did you need earlier?” he inquires curiously, leaning forward. A little of the pain resurfaces in Wonwoo’s chest just at the memory.

“I was, uh,” he stammers, “really stressed out.” Mingyu nods for him to continue, clearly dissatisfied with such a meager answer, and Wonwoo concedes. “I thought you hated me, so… I needed someone to talk to.” Mingyu’s face drops, mouth falling open. He places a hand firmly on Wonwoo’s shoulder.

“Hyung, I could _never_ hate you,” he declares, pulling Wonwoo into his arms. “I was just… I was really upset earlier. I’m sorry.”

“That’s what Minghao said.” Mingyu pulls away a little bit to look him in the eyes with confusion.

“When did you talk to Minghao?”

“I got Jeonghan to come over, and they were together,” he explains, patting Mingyu’s shoulder. “Jeonghan actually fell asleep, but Minghao really helped me out.” He smiles fondly. “I’m glad Jeonghan’s got him. He’s a really good guy.”

“Y’know, I hate to say this,” Mingyu leads, lips stretching into a grin, “but would you perhaps _not_ compliment other men when I am shirtless with my arms around you?”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“That’s half my charm.” He sneaks a little closer, lips nearly brushing Wonwoo’s with each word, eyes intent. “Don’t you think?”

“I guess you’re right.” Wonwoo can’t hold back a grin as he tilts his head forward for another kiss, leaving his lips to linger over Mingyu’s for just another moment after breaking away. He caresses the back of Mingyu’s neck gently. “Sorry about a minute ago,” he blurts, suddenly recalling his vigor right before the phone rang. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“It’s okay,” he mutters. “It was kinda hot.” Wonwoo’s cheeks tint a deep red, and he hopes the light is low enough to hide it. “I was surprised, though. I didn’t think you had it in you.” He offers a cunning wink, and Wonwoo’s face only gets warmer. The gap between them closes again as Wonwoo snakes his arms around Mingyu once more.

They spend a long time on the couch, exchanging kisses, whispering confessions, laughing breathlessly. It’s impossible for them to keep their hands off each other for more than a second, a magnetic force pulling them back together each time they’re apart. The darkness of the room makes them forget everything else: other people, the passage of time, school tomorrow. The quiet isolates them in their own bubble of warmth, untouched by anything but each other as the minutes tick by unnoticed. After an indistinguishable length of time, Mingyu picks up his phone to check the clock and nearly lets it slip straight out of his hands.

“Holy shit,” he croaks, turning to Wonwoo with wild eyes. “It’s eleven already!” He leaps to his feet and starts donning his shirt as quickly as possible.

“Hey, calm down,” Wonwoo says, but Mingyu’s not having any of it.

“You calm down!” he hollers. “It’s basically midnight. I should left an hour ago at least!” He looks around frantically, suddenly realizing something. “And why don’t you seem concerned at all that your mom still isn’t home?”

“She told me she wouldn’t be home until tomorrow,” he informs, grabbing him by the wrist. “Also,” he adds with a cough, “you can stay the night. If you want.” Mingyu’s eyebrows look like they’re about to merge with his hairline.

“Really?” he asks incredulously.

“It’s not like you haven’t done it before,” Wonwoo reminds him knowingly. “You don’t have to, though. But just, if you don’t wanna walk, y—”

“I’ll stay,” he says without any further hesitation. “If that’s fine with you.”

“I offered.”

“I guess you did.” Wonwoo rises to stand with Mingyu, eyes shining.

“It’s getting a little late,” he comments. “We should go to bed.” Mingyu’s eyes shine right back at him.

“We should.”

They stay quiet as they ready themselves for slumber. Wonwoo loans out a pair of pajama pants, but Mingyu rejects the t-shirt, opting instead to sleep topless, which Wonwoo knows is only going to keep him awake. Without prior discussion, they climb into the bed together, nestling comfortably under the covers. Not giving even a second of warning, Mingyu wraps his arms snugly around Wonwoo’s waist and nuzzles into the back of his neck. It comes as a surprise to Wonwoo himself how little shifting it takes to become comfortable.

“You should know that this is the first time in my life I have ever been the little spoon,” he whispers. Puffs of air from Mingyu’s muted laughter tickle his neck.

“It won’t be the last,” he promises, and Wonwoo is incredibly thankful that all the lights are off, though Mingyu can probably still feel him heating up. He snuggles back a little more and regrets it immediately when he feels the muscles in Mingyu’s chest touching his back through the shirt; Mingyu’s already contracted his arms, though, so it’s too late to escape now. He closes his eyes and tries not to focus too hard on the arms around him or the breaths rustling his hair or the guy he likes right behind him, but to his dismay, he ends up focusing way too much on all of them. Before too long has passed, the sound of Mingyu snoring softly enters his ears, providing just one more detail he won’t be able to ignore. _It’s gonna be a long night._

When Wonwoo wakes up the next morning, his eyes are begging to be shut again the second he opens them. He didn’t get nearly enough sleep during the night, unsurprisingly, and he wishes for nothing more than the ability to close his eyes and go back to bed. The incessant ringing of his alarm ensures he knows that isn’t an option.

He disentangles himself from Mingyu’s embrace easily, making no attempt not to preserve his slumber, but Mingyu stays blissfully unconscious, unaware of the day he’s about to face. His hair sticks up at wild angles that Wonwoo isn’t even sure how it attained, and his visage is more peaceful than Wonwoo’s ever seen it, devoid completely of worry, humor, curiosity, everything else Wonwoo is so accustomed to finding there. He can’t help but notice how cute he looks, but he nips that thought in the bud as soon as he notices it. _Now’s no time for that. You need to get ready for school._

The second he has his shirt off, he can feel a pair of eyes on him from the other side of the room. With a sigh, he turns around to find Mingyu gazing at him intently, a wide grin plastered on his face, and he shows no signs of looking away any time soon. “Can I help you with something?” Wonwoo asks, trying his best to be irritated, but it’s difficult when it’s Mingyu. He just lets his smile grow a little in return.

“No. I’m just enjoying the view.” He crinkles his eyes, propping himself up on one elbow. _Damn, does he look—_ Wonwoo doesn’t even let himself finish the thought. Now is _really_ not the time.

“Well, the view is trying to get ready for school,” he scoffs, “and it recommends you do the same.” Mingyu snorts.

“The view seems to have forgotten that this isn’t my house,” he counters, finally sitting up. Now that his head is isolated, his bedhead is even more pronounced. “I don’t have anything to wear.”

“Well, that’s not the view’s fault.”

“I seem to recall that it was the view who asked me to stay the night.” Wonwoo looks him over, trying to remember if he has anything that would even fit Mingyu.

“The view might have something you can wear,” he muses, heading to the closet.

“I know I kinda started it,” Mingyu sighs, rising to his feet, “but can we stop calling you ‘the view’ now? We’ve been dragging it out for weirdly long.” Wonwoo nods wordlessly, poring over the articles in his closet to see if any of them look like they would fit Mingyu comfortably. He doesn’t doubt that he’d be able to squeeze into most of them, but ‘squeeze’ isn’t usually the optimal verb he would want to use to describe how the clothes have been put on. Just as his hope is about to run out, he finds a sweater that’s always been super loose on him and some jeans that never stopped being baggy. _Thank god._

“These should fit,” he says, plucking the garments from of their spots and turning around. He’s stalled from continuing by Mingyu standing extremely, _extremely_ close. He drags his hand up Wonwoo’s arm, smiling down with glistening eyes.

“You have a nice body, hyung,” he murmurs, completely ignoring the attire being offered to him. Cupping his face with one hand, he leans in to place a tender kiss on Wonwoo’s lips. Wonwoo lets his eyes flutter closed for one single second before he remembers that they have to be somewhere very soon, and every second wasted is a second they could be spending getting ready to go to there. He pushes Mingyu away abruptly.

“While I do appreciate the compliment,” he says, shoving the clothes into Mingyu’s idle hands, “we _really_ need to get ready to go to school now.” Mingyu grumbles, but turns to start getting dressed anyway, finally allowing Wonwoo to finish the changing he’d already started.

A few minutes later, they’re fully dressed and making their way to the kitchen, Mingyu tugging distractedly at the unfamiliar clothes. He slides into a seat at the counter while Wonwoo pours himself a glass of milk.

“Do you have any pancake mix?” he asks suddenly, eyes lighting up. Wonwoo watches him warily out of the corner of his eye.

“Why?”

“I want to make breakfast,” he explains. Wonwoo rolls his eyes.

“We don’t have any,” he says, eliciting a frown from Mingyu, “but we _do_ still have roughly one million bagels.”

“Bagels aren’t romantic,” Mingyu whines. “No matter how much I may love them.”

“And pancakes are?”

“Very,” Mingyu assures him, and he lets out a heavy sigh.

“Whether or not they’re romantic isn’t important. We don’t have nearly enough time to make pancakes if we want to get to school on time.”

“Why bother going to school?” Mingyu laments, throwing a hand to his forehead. “I just realized I don’t even have my backpack, anyway. I may as well not show up.”

“Oh, shit.” Wonwoo hadn’t even thought of that. “Do you really need it that badly?”

“It sorta has all my stuff in it,” he points out, “so yeah.” Wonwoo scratches the back of his head in thought, attempting to come up with a solution, but nothing enters his mind. Additionally, every second he spends thinking is a second less of time they have to act. After a few minutes, Mingyu folds his hands in front of his chest pleadingly.

“Hyung, I have a proposition for you.” When he sees that he’s gotten Wonwoo’s attention, he leans forward and continues. “Why don’t we just _skip_ the first few periods so that I can make you breakfast _and_ get my backpack?” Wonwoo furrows his brow. “I promise we’ll be there in time for home economics.”

Wonwoo has yet to miss a single period this school year, and he’d like to keep it that way. He’d really rather not give any of his teachers a reason to dock his grade or make his life any harder. This is hardly a decent reason for him to miss class; maybe for Mingyu, but certainly not for him. Looking into Mingyu’s hopeful eyes, though, it’s hard to concentrate on logic and obey reason.

“Fine,” he says at last. Mingyu beams. “We better get to home ec on time, though.”

“Of course we will!” he shouts, springing to his feet. He dashes around the counter and grabs Wonwoo by the hand, dragging him along toward the door. “Now, let’s go get some pancake mix.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ........AND THEN WONWOO WOKE UP!!!!   
>  just kidding lmao i wouldn't do that shit. anyway, thanks for 250 kudos!!! holy crow!!! i really never thought i would meet with this much positivity, so i offer my genuine thanks to everyone who has read this fic!!   
> some other news for those of you whom i have swindled onto the junhoon bus: i recently wrote a (kinda long) junhoon oneshot which you can locate by visiting either my page or the extremely sparse junhoon tag. that's also why this chapter was kinda late, since i hate to take a bit of a break from this to write that.  
> BUT ANYHOW i hope you all enjoyed this chapter! this story will wrap up... whenever the hell it wraps up... thanks for reading this far, and as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mingyu makes Wonwoo breakfast, and they head to school.

Anxiety gnaws at Wonwoo the entire walk to the store, and it doesn’t stop once they get there. Mingyu pores over the shelves in search of pancake mix and other fun breakfast ingredients with unreasonable enthusiasm, but all Wonwoo can get himself to do is stand stock still, shifting his gaze uncomfortably around the store in a fashion he figures must be arousing suspicion. Every so often, he catches a glimpse of Mingyu looking at him, and each time it happens, Mingyu sends him a smile that calms him down, but he always manages to get right back to being nervous.

“Why do you look so tense?” Mingyu asks, coming up beside him and giving him a playful nudge with his shoulder.

“This feels wrong,” Wonwoo whispers, taking another panicked glance around the store and accidentally making very awkward eye contact with the cashier before averting his eyes again quickly. _She definitely thinks we’re up to something sketchy now_. “We should be in class right now, but we’re at the grocery store.”

“Just relax,” Mingyu says, as if that’s actually going to help him relax. “It’s not like we’re robbing a bank.” He picks up a bottle of syrup and bops Wonwoo on the nose with it gently. “Everything is gonna be fine.”

“Do you just skip class all the time or something?” Wonwoo asks suspiciously, narrowing his eyes. “Are you actually a delinquent?” Mingyu snorts, walking farther down the aisle to look for something else, and Wonwoo trails behind him, fleeing the stare of the cashier.

“Of course not. I’ve never skipped a class before,” he admits. “I’m just trying not to think about it.” He picks up a bag of mix and eyes it carefully. “Do you guys have eggs?”

“Probably?”

“Probably isn’t good enough,” Mingyu huffs, tucking the pancake mix under his arm and heading toward the dairy section. “Looks like we’ll need to get some of those, too.”

“You know, Mingyu, you really don’t need to do this.” Wonwoo chews his lip nervously as he trails behind. “We should just scrap the idea and go to school.”

“Listen, hyung, I know you’re really stressed about missing,” he says, opening an egg carton to inspect its contents, “but I’m not just going to _not_ make you breakfast to commemorate the beginning of our relationship.”

“There are _other_ ways to commemorate it,” Wonwoo says despite the warmth rising to his face.

“Well, yeah, but this is _romantic_.” He sends a sideways smile Wonwoo’s way as he adds the egg carton to the slowly growing collection of items beneath his arm. “We could egg your house, but that wouldn’t be romantic at all.” He turns to face Wonwoo, stroking his chin pensively. “It would’ve been better if we didn’t have to come buy the pancake mix, though.”

“How much else do we need to get?” Wonwoo taps his foot impatiently, ready to get this over with and get to school as quickly as possible. Mingyu just fixes him with another dazzling grin, setting his heart aflutter.

“This is it,” he says, making his way toward the checkout line. “Don’t worry,” he reassures him again, seeing the nervousness plain on his face. “Everything’s gonna be fine.”

The store is expectedly empty for a Tuesday morning, so they have no line to wait behind once they reach checkout, and for that, Wonwoo is beyond grateful. The girl behind the register watches them dubiously as Mingyu unloads his freight onto the belt, keeping her eyes on Wonwoo especially for any indication of funny business, which only makes him more nervous. Just as she opens her mouth to ask a question, Mingyu offers one of his signature beams, and Wonwoo watches the soul fly straight out of her body. _I know exactly how you feel_.

“Is, uh,” she stammers, trying to make eye contact with Mingyu but also trying not to, “is that gonna be, uh, all for you today?”

“This’ll be everything,” he says smoothly, leaning in a little closer. Her breath hitches slightly, and Wonwoo suppresses a groan. There is absolutely no need for him to be so over-the-top right now.

“Your total is, uh, $18.14,” she barely manages to get out, and Mingyu’s already putting the money in her hand, making sure to use _both_ of his to deliver it there, clutching her hand tightly with one and placing his payment with the other. He lets his fingertips linger on her palm for just a moment too long before withdrawing, and Wonwoo _really_ doesn’t see why any of this is necessary.

“Thank you,” she breathes as she hands him the bag, dropping the change inside. “Have a nice day.”

“No,” Mingyu counters, a sly smile stretching across his face, “thank _you._ ” Without any further words, he turns on his heel and walks briskly out through the front door, leaving Wonwoo to follow behind.

“What was the purpose of that, exactly?” Wonwoo asks after a minute as their heels tap over the pavement. The morning air is cool against his face, reddening his cheeks while they walk. Mingyu raises his eyebrows cluelessly.

“Purpose of what?” he asks, confused. “The shopping trip? We had to get pancake m—”

“Not the shopping trip, you idiot.” Wonwoo huffs out a breath that he can vaguely see outlined in the air. It’s a little earlier than usual, but it’s already starting to get cold. _Soon enough, it’ll be winter_. “Why were you being so unnecessarily charming for the cashier?”

“Oh,” Mingyu chuckles, smirking. “I was just distracting her.”

“From what?”

“She looked like she thought we were up to something,” Mingyu explains, “which is probably your fault, because you were _acting_ like we were up to something.” He nods in self-satisfaction. “I was just trying to make her forget she thought we were suspicious.”

“We could have just _told_ her that we weren’t up to anything shady, you know.” Mingyu just shakes his head.

“But isn’t that exactly what you would say if you _were_ up to something?” Wonwoo wants to argue, but he can’t really find a suitable response, so he just keeps his mouth shut. _Damn that Mingyu and his logic._ “Trust me. I know what I’m doing.”

“Still,” he grumbles, dragging his heels, “you didn’t have to make her fall in love with you.”

“I know that’s not jealousy I’m hearing,” Mingyu says incredulously, glancing in Wonwoo’s direction. He waits for him to deny it, but Wonwoo doesn’t have it in him to act like he wasn’t just a little bit jealous against his better judgement. Mingyu giggles. “That’s really cute, hyung, but you don’t need to worry. Even if I had ten eyes, they would all be looking at you.” Wonwoo raises his eyebrows in amusement, a small smile playing at his lips against his will.

“That’s a weird thing to say.”

“I’m a weird guy,” Mingyu says proudly. Wonwoo hesitates a bit before speaking.

“And no offense, but really I hope you won’t grow eight more eyes.”

“I’ll knock it off my to-do list.”

Mingyu sets to work making the pancakes as soon as they arrive home, pulling out all the ingredients he needs and gathering various kitchen tools Wonwoo didn’t even know they had. He eases himself onto a stool to watch silently, amazed by the weird focus that comes over Mingyu whenever he does something like this. It was the same way when they had to make bread for home economics, like he turned into a machine for a few minutes, unable to think of anything else but the task at hand. His hands move quickly, purposefully, and in no time flat, he’s pouring batter onto the heated frying pan to let it cook.

“There’s still plenty of eggs left,” Mingyu muses, turning around to face Wonwoo. “Should I make eggs, too?” Wonwoo sighs.

“I really would like to get to school as soon as possible, so…”

“I get it,” Mingyu says with a grin and a twinkle in his eyes, turning back around. “I’ll make eggs next time.”

The atmosphere is comforting despite the nervous knot in Wonwoo’s stomach. There’s something nice about being here, just the two of them, watching Mingyu go about the business of cooking. Even though he knows it’ll end soon enough, that they have to go to school at some point, part of him feels like this easy air could go on forever, and part of him wishes it would; that part is immediately overshadowed by his continually rising anxiousness.

Before too long, Mingyu is setting a plate holding a substantial stack of pancakes in front of him and swirling whipped cream on top, pushing the freshly-bought bottle of maple syrup his way. The aroma wafts into Wonwoo’s nose, and he suddenly realizes just how hungry he’s gotten. Without waiting for Mingyu to grab his own plate, he starts digging in, tearing the pancakes apart at a rapid pace. They taste incredible, though knowing Mingyu’s affinity for the kitchen, he’s not very surprised. He finishes quickly, then figures he ought to at least do something, so he rises to start washing the dishes dirtied in the making of breakfast, giving Mingyu a chance to finish eating. When he’s almost done cleaning up, he feels a pair of arms sliding around his waist like they belong there.

“How were the pancakes?” Mingyu mumbles, breath rousing Wonwoo’s hair and tickling his cheek.

“They were good,” Wonwoo answers, lips curling slightly upward. “Can I finish cleaning up?” Mingyu complies, lessening his hold on Wonwoo just enough for him to rinse the last measuring cup, then swivels him around once he’s done. Their noses almost touch as they smile silently at each other.

“Can I have a ‘good job’ kiss?” Mingyu asks after a while, eyes shining. Before Wonwoo has the chance to respond, he’s leaning in, only to have his lips meet a firm fingertip. Wonwoo smirks back as confusion spreads across his face.

“No kisses for _you,_ shit sack. We have to get your backpack and go to school. Time’s a-wastin’.” Mingyu sighs and lets his arms go slack, stepping back dejectedly.

“I make you breakfast,” he begins somberly, “and in return, you call me shit sack. Is this how it’s gonna be?” Wonwoo chuckles unsympathetically.

“Maybe next time,” he consoles, patting Mingyu on the back. “But for right now, you need to take us to your place.” Mingyu groans but leads the way out of the house anyway, Wonwoo following cheerfully at his heels. The unease in his gut is starting to settle now that they’re getting closer to actually going to school, and it takes an incredible amount of willpower not to skip alongside Mingyu while they walk.

Not much time passes before they’re approaching an apartment building in a part of town Wonwoo’s not sure he’s been before. It’s a few minutes in the opposite direction of the school from his house, and Wonwoo wonders if Mingyu always has to make such a long walk or if he ever gets driven. He’s curious why he’s never been to the area when it’s so close, but he realizes it’s probably because his friends have always lived in the neighborhood right around him coupled with the fact that there doesn’t seem to be any places of interest around. A hardware store, an office supply store, a craft store. All old people stores. No wonder. Though, if Wonwoo thinks about it, he’s not too far away from being adult himself. He shudders at the thought of willingly walking into an office supply store as Mingyu leads them into the apartment building.

Wonwoo isn’t sure why, but the quiet of the elevator ride makes him nervous. With each floor they rise, he feels a growing sense of dread in the pit of his stomach, but he can’t quite put his finger on what it’s aimed at. Is there a test he has today that he forgot but his subconscious remembers? He tries to mentally run through his whole schedule, but what’s the point? _If I don’t remember a test, I’m not going to remember that I don’t remember it even if I try to remember it… Or am I?_ Thankfully, they arrive at the floor they need before he has time to work himself into a headache.

Mingyu guides them down the hall to one of the apartments near the end, sticking his key in and pushing the door open softly. Wonwoo accompanies him inside to find a rather spacious apartment with a sleek feel to it, and it somehow seems like exactly what he was expecting. Mingyu gives him a signal to wait by the door and presses a finger to his lips, tiptoeing carefully across the carpet. Before he makes it to what Wonwoo assumes is his bedroom, though, something moves on the couch, and Wonwoo notices for the first time a head poking up just above its back. The head turns slightly as Mingyu inches along, but Wonwoo can’t make out its face.

“Mingyu?” The voice belongs to an elderly woman. Mingyu turns slowly, letting out a light sigh. “You sure are home from school early. Half day?” Mingyu sighs again more forcefully, a small smile rising to his lips.

“Hilarious, Grandma,” he says, “but I’m getting my backpack to go to school. _Please_ don’t tell mom and dad about this.” She chortles heartily in response, and the sound is very reminiscent of Mingyu’s laugh. Wonwoo can’t help the rising of his cheeks.

“Is there a good reason I _shouldn’t_ tell them?”

“Because you love me?” Mingyu tries, but all his grandmother does is cackle fiercely until she throws herself into a coughing fit. Once she calms down, she rises from the couch and starts shuffling around it.

“Not quite good enough, I’m afraid,” she answers, shuffling around the couch. The second she spots Wonwoo, she averts her gaze back so her grandson and narrows her eyes suspiciously, leaving Wonwoo to stand very awkwardly in the doorway. “Who is this?”

“Oh, that’s, uh,” Mingyu stammers, reddening, “Wonwoo.” His grandmother’s face brightens swiftly into a knowing smile, though her eyes stay cunning. Wonwoo’s surprised by how much of Mingyu he sees in her, or rather, how much of her he’s seen in Mingyu.

“The Wonwoo you always talk about?” she inquires mischievously, and Mingyu groans. Wonwoo raises his eyebrows and forces himself not to laugh at the obvious kick she’s getting out of this.

“Of course,” he admits grudgingly, covering his face with his hands. “I only know one.”

“I thought so,” she chuckles. Wonwoo’s caught off guard when she addresses him. “Nice to finally meet you,” she says, hobbling over to give him a surprisingly firm handshake. “We’ve heard _so_ much about you.” Mingyu moans again as he ventures into his room to fetch his backpack.

“Nice to meet you, too,” Wonwoo says with a small bow, praying his fingers are still functioning. “All good things, I hope.”

“Very good things,” she assures him with a wink. “I don’t suppose you being here right now has anything to do with Mingyu not being in class? Or that he didn’t come home last night?” Her eyes become very sharp very quickly, and Wonwoo feels perspiration start beading on his forehead. “Don’t tell me y—”

“Please do not say another word,” Mingyu nearly shouts as he skips out of his room to intercept further conversation, backpack in tow. “Wonwoo is very responsible, and the only reason I stayed over at his house is because it got really late without us realizing.” He gives her a determined thumbs up. “We’re good kids.”

“If you say so,” she says dubiously, but her eyes give away that she trusts him. “If you pick up some glazed donuts on the way home, I’ll forget this happened.”

“I love you so much,” Mingyu rushes as he swings the door open and pushes Wonwoo back into the hall. “I’ll see you after school with donuts.”

“Have a good day,” she croons, and Mingyu shuts the door swiftly behind them.

“She seems nice,” Wonwoo notes once they’re in the elevator.

“Of course,” Mingyu huffs. “She’s related to me.” Wonwoo snorts, watching the number on the LED display slowly drop.

“So,” he begins again when they’re almost to the ground floor, “you talk about me?”

“Jesus,” he grumbles. “Can’t you let me rest for a minute?”

“No.”

“Jesus!” he repeats more violently. “Yes, I talk about you. Are you happy?”

“Yes.” He pauses. “What do you say?” Mingyu draws out a sigh for as long as is physically possible as they exit the building and begin their journey down the sidewalk.

“Why are you doing this to me? Does my pain bring you joy?”

“What’s the matter? Are you embarrassed?” Wonwoo bumps into Mingyu with his shoulder repeatedly as they walk, smirking. Mingyu just lets it happen, tries to hide the reluctant smile making itself known on his face, fails.

“Obviously,” he mumbles. “It was bad enough last night when I tried to tell you about it.”

“I guess I’ll let you off this time, then,” Wonwoo concedes breezily.

The walk is a fair bit longer than Wonwoo’s usual trip to school, but with Mingyu’s company, it passes quickly. When they make it to school, there’s about half a period left before home economics is due to start, and part of Wonwoo wishes they had spent just a little more time dawdling, but that part pales in comparison to the vast majority of him, which is flooded with relief to finally be at school. They meander around the halls together aimlessly, trying not to get caught and questioned by any stray teachers and occasionally passing other students skipping class. Thankfully, they make it safely to the bell without incident, and Wonwoo is glad that Mingyu was right this morning when he said everything would be fine.

At the end of home economics, Wonwoo heads to his classroom for literature, hand-in-hand with Mingyu not for the first time. It gives him a strange thrill to be openly able to be affectionate like this, renewing the fire in his lungs that he felt last night, and for once, he’s actually excited to tell his friends about it. When he enters the classroom, though, his good mood fades instantly, and the dread he felt in the elevator resurfaces. He takes his seat carefully among his unusually silent friends to stare with them at the senior counselor standing sternly at the front of the classroom.

This is it. This is what he forgot about: the senior counselor coming to yell at them about applying to universities. It makes sense; it’s almost halfway through the semester, and deadlines always manage to creep up faster than expected. Before he knows it, it’ll be long past, but somehow, he still doesn’t feel like it’s close enough to worry about yet, like he’s not graduating in just a few months. He still isn’t quite sure where he wants to go to school yet, either, and he doesn’t get the feeling this lecture from the counselor is about to help him decide.

“I’m Mr. Park,” the man introduces himself in a distinctly unfriendly voice, stirring the wispy mustache perched on his upper lip. _How many ‘Mr. Park’s are there at this school, and how did I never hear of any until this year?_ “I’m your senior counselor,” he continues grumbling, “and I’ll tell you right now that if you haven’t already started sending in your applications, you’re behind.” The class sighs collectively, and Wonwoo is sure this is going to be exactly as unhelpful as he predicted.

Mr. Park #2 proceeds to drill into their minds how much he doesn’t care if they get their applications in on time and how they’re basically adults and therefore shouldn’t be expecting any help from him, and Wonwoo really starts to wonder why and how he became a guidance counselor for high school students. He passes out sheets of paper with lists of deadlines and lists of general scholarships and lists of desirable standardized test scores and lists of lists of list, and by the time the hour is over, Wonwoo feels even less prepared to tackle applications than he did before it began. The whole group marches solemnly to the cafeteria, weary husks of their former selves.

“How many weeks do we have left until the national deadline?” Soonyoung asks as he takes a seat at the table. Jeonghan counts on his fingers with an unnecessary amount of focus.

“Seven, I think.”

“Mamma mia, Luigi,” Soonyoung breathes in awe. “That is not very many weeks.”

“I’m not even going to ask where you found that expression,” Jisoo states, vaguely horrified, “but I want you to put it back.” Soonyoung just shrugs it off with a typical toothy grin.

“No need to be jealous of how hip I am.”

“Anyway,” Jihoon says, “have you guys seriously not even started applying yet?”

“Are you saying you have?” Jun spits, and Jihoon just nods his head silently, taking a sip of his drink. “Where, Jihoonie? I can’t believe you didn’t even tell me.” An elbow hits him in the ribs mid-sentence, but he powers through in classic Jun fashion.

“Could you even get into the same place?” Seungcheol asks skeptically, and Jun just scoffs.

“What, with my grades? It’ll be a cinch.”

“Aren’t you failing math?”

“No,” Jun admits with a grin, and Jihoon momentarily quits grinding his elbow into his side to look at him in shock. “I just told Jihoon I was so he would spend time with me.”

“Are you kidding me?” Jihoon cries. “Why the _hell_ would you make me—”

“You look cute when you’re teaching,” Jun explains. Jihoon narrows his eyes.

“I’m never telling you where I applied.” Jun wails as the elbow in his side finds a weak spot.

“Man,” Mingyu laughs lightly, “you guys sure are old.” They all whip their heads around to glare at Mingyu simultaneously.

“You shut your damn mouth, Mingyu,” Jeonghan grumbles sourly, taking a large bit of his sandwich. “Just wait. This time next year, it’ll be you, and we’ll all be laughing our asses off from college while you struggle.” He swallows his mouthful and sighs drearily. “I can’t believe we’re already seniors. Where did the time go?”

An air of gloom settles quickly over the table, and Wonwoo finds himself falling prey to it, the reality that his high school days are coming to an end really starting to sink in. Sure, he still has a few months left, and he knows he’ll be happy once he finally walks across that stage, but looking around at his friends’ faces, at his _boyfriend’s_ face, it’s hard not to feel prematurely nostalgic, like everything’s slipping through his fingers like flour through a sieve.

“Well, more importantly,” Jisoo says in a desperate attempt to distract everyone from the impending melancholy, “Halloween is coming up soon, too, and we need to figure out where we’re having the party. My mom doesn’t want it at our house again after last year’s incident with the candy corn.”

“Oh, man.” Jun’s eyes stare off in hazy recollection. “I almost forgot about that.”

“That was a _lot_ of candy corn,” Seungcheol muses.

“Are you guys gonna tell me what happened, or are you just going to hint at it cryptically and force me to make assumptions?” Mingyu asks tiredly. Jihoon slams his palm down on the table almost before he can finish speaking.

“You are _never_ allowed to know,” he asserts defensively, voice a dull yell. Jun pats his shoulder gently.

“Just know that it was half of the reason I fell for Jihoon in the first place,” he states coolly, but the rest of the table only gazes at him in terrified confusion; Mingyu’s is the only face not displaying a look of pure horror. For a few minutes, all any of them can do is stare wordlessly at Jun’s grinning mug, except for Mingyu, who looks around at each boy at the table, desperate for an answer.

“No offense, dude,” Seungcheol says finally, breaking the silence, “but that is disgusting.”

“Seriously,” Mingyu groans, “what happened?”

“We can probably do it at my house,” Soonyoung inserts, reining the conversation back in and leaving Mingyu in the dark. “I never told my parents about the thing with the candy corn, so they shouldn’t have any suspicions.” Mingyu tries to ask again, but no matter how many times he does, Jihoon shuts him down, and before too long, lunch is over.

Wonwoo is slightly surprised when he sees Mingyu waiting at his locker that afternoon, but then he remembers their fresh status as _dating_ and colors slightly. He also remembers that he got distracted and completely forgot to mention the development in their relationship to all his friends when he had the chance. He figures it’ll be a strong enough indication if he walks out to meet them holding Mingyu’s hand, so once he finishes storing his books, and he laces his fingers with Mingyu’s and strides proudly outside.

“Shit,” Seungcheol mutters a little too loudly when he sees them coming, but before Wonwoo can get offended, Soonyoung is jumping around jubilantly and yelling at the top of his lungs.

“Oh, _hell_ yes,” he cries, extending a hand to gesture grandly at their linked hands. “You guys are seeing this, right?” They nod solemnly, and Wonwoo has a hunch he’s going to be aggravated by what comes out of Soonyoung’s mouth next. “You all owe me twenty bucks!” His hunch was right.

“Are you kidding me?” Wonwoo roars. “Again?”

“Again?” Mingyu asks, completely lost. Soonyoung chuckles as Jihoon pulls a twenty out of his wallet dejectedly.

“Don’t worry about it, Mingyu,” he says mysteriously, plucking the money from Jihoon’s angry hand and shoving it swiftly into his pocket, moving on to the next victim.

“Oh, nuts,” Mingyu almost yells, unhanding Wonwoo immediately. “I have to go buy donuts! I’ll see you guys later.” With no other words, he dashes off in the direction of the convenience store. They all stare after him until he suddenly turns around, rushes back, presses a soft kiss on Wonwoo’s forehead, and hurries off again. Heat rises to his cheeks as his friends stare at him with raised eyebrows.

“Wow, Wonwoo,” Jun whistles. “I mean, we already knew, but you could have at least told us.” Wonwoo opens his mouth to explain, but Jun just keeps talking. “I wish Jihoon would let me do that,” he says wistfully, earning himself a fist in the gut. After a minute more of conflict during which Soonyoung slips off to join his tender-nosed lover, the herd departs to make their separate journeys home.

Wonwoo’s mother does not look pleased when she spots him walking in the front door. One thing that’s always scared him is that he can never tell what she’s mad about, and at the moment, it’s scaring him a tad bit more than usual. She remains stoic as he joins her in the kitchen, eyes cold and judging while he approaches with increasing hesitation.

“Hey,” he greets nervously. “Was your trip okay?”

“I got a call from the school this morning,” she states instead of answering, and Wonwoo feels his heart sink. “They said you missed a few classes. Any explanation for that?” Wonwoo sighs, sitting down.

“Mingyu was, uh,” he stammers, and she raises her eyebrows. “He came over last night and then it got late, so he just stayed, and then, uh, we had to go get his backpack. So we couldn’t get to school on time.”

“Mingyu?” she asks, eyes softening just slightly. “Why was he here?”

“Well, we were, uh… We were…” He searches for the best words to say, but his mother beats him to the punch.

“Are you two _really_ just friends?” she asks, and amusement is starting to replace some of the edge in her tone; it’s not much, but it’s enough to make Wonwoo relax.

“Not anymore,” he says, and she smiles fondly for a moment before letting the sharpness return to her words.

“Well, I’m happy for you,” she says unconvincingly, “but I don’t want this new relationship to affect your studies. This is an important year, you know, and I’m sure Mingyu is a good kid, but don’t get too distracted. You’re gonna have a lot on your plate for a while.”

“I know,” he sighs.

“I’m serious, honey,” she insists softly. “Have fun while you can, but be serious, too.”

“I will, mom. I promise.” She nods solemnly and pulls herself up from the stool.

“I trust you,” she says, retreating to her bedroom and leaving Wonwoo alone in the kitchen.

He stares at his hands for a long time, unsure of what to do. Without realizing it, he hasn’t been thinking about much else aside from Mingyu for quite some time now, certainly hasn’t had his mind on impending application deadlines or grades or anything else responsible. Maybe his mom is right that he needs to be a little more serious. Maybe a relationship with Mingyu isn’t the best idea right now, especially with him leaving in a few months. He huffs in frustration.

His mind has been so cluttered lately that he doesn’t know the best thing to, what he should do, what he wants to do. After today’s meeting with the counselor, he feels like he doesn’t know much of anything. All he wants to do is take a nap until it goes away, but he knows that won’t make it any better. He just promised his mom he would take things seriously. With that in mind, he heads to his room, opens his laptop, and starts looking to see which schools he wants to apply for, blocking Mingyu completely out of his thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woohoo! we are here! hope you all enjoyed this chapter! slight delay again because i, being the jackass i am, took ANOTHER break to write junhoon, but hey, we're back at it again. by my maps and charts, it looks like we'll be wrapping up here in about two chapters or so, so we're on the home stretch! it's been a very fun ride and i'm thankful to have had you all along on it with me so far, and i hope you will stick it out to the end (i mean you've already made it this far so why not). again, i hope you liked this chapter, and as always, feedback is greatly appreciated. see you next time!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wonwoo starts thinking about the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> emet warning??

Wonwoo isn’t completely sure what he wants to major in, but he thinks maybe something in humanities since he likes reading. That’s easy. All universities have humanities departments. Now the question is tuition. Scholarships. Location. Everything else. Wonwoo groans. Why does there have to be so much to consider? Can’t he just be put somewhere? It would be so much simpler than doing all this damn research. He would be able to just relax and coast through his senior year.

Of course, there’s no use in thinking about that, because it isn’t the way things are. He’s just going to have to focus and look around and do his best to make the right decision. He concentrates on nothing but the information displayed on his computer screen in front of him: no friends, no mom, no Mingyu. All that matters right now is finding a good school that he might like to attend and applying, regardless of where it is. As long as he can get enough financial aid to make it feasible.

A few tired hours of research later, he’s found a school that seems to fit the bill. It’s got a lot of programs that seem interesting, and Wonwoo’s impressed by most everything he sees on the website. The only downer he can find is that it’s five hours away. That’s a lot farther than he’d like to be from Mingyu… _Wait._ _Don’t think about Mingyu right now. This is about my future._ He clicks through to start filling out the application, and before he knows it, he’s almost completed the whole thing. All he really has left to do is write a personal statement and get some letters of recommendation from teachers, so he sets it aside for the day and does a little more searching for some backup schools. He doesn’t think he won’t be able to get in, but it never hurts to have alternates, so he powers through a few more applications, stopping only when his mom calls him to dinner.

Over the next few days, he wraps up all of them, applying to five schools in total. He convinces his mom to take him to visit his top choice the following weekend, and once he’s had a look around the campus, he can’t picture himself anywhere else. He doesn’t know why, but he doesn’t tell any of his friends where he’s been applying. After the day they met with the counselor, they’ve all started talking about nothing but college this and college that at lunch—everybody except for Mingyu, of course—and it’s tiring him out. Wonwoo doesn’t tell Mingyu where he’s applied, either, but he thinks he might know why on that one, thinks maybe hearing your significant other will probably be five hours away is less than desirable news.

His first acceptance comes in the mail the Thursday before the Halloween party. It’s just from a local school, one of his backups, but it’s still _something_. It makes him feel more together as a whole, even if the anxiety over the slight chance of not getting into his top choice is slowly eating away at him. As long as he ignores that, though, he feels much better about his general situation.

“I got my first acceptance letter yesterday,” he informs everyone at lunch on Friday.

“Nice job, dude,” Soonyoung says with a proud nod and a firm slap on the back. “Where?”

“Nowhere special,” he shrugs. “Just Central, here in town.”

“Oh, are you gonna go there next year, hyung?” Mingyu asks excitedly, eyes filled with that puppy-like joy they often get, face cracked by an earth-shattering smile. “That would be great! It’s so close!”

There it is. The twisting ache in Wonwoo’s gut that he knew would come sooner or later, like there’s some snake under his skin, constricting his insides. The unbridled enthusiasm on Mingyu’s face, in his eyes, his voice; it’s a kick in the chest, both feet at full force. How can he look into those eyes and say no? How can he stomp out the joy so evident there? He can’t, and he knows he can’t. Not right now, at least. The sooner he tells Mingyu, the better off he’ll be, and the better he’ll feel, but at this moment, when his acceptance isn’t even in, he’s going let himself to put it off.

“I might,” he lies sheepishly, and the coils around his heart and lungs tighten just enough to remind him they’re there. “We’ll have to wait and see.” Mingyu nods thoughtfully.

“Well, I’d be happy if you stayed close.” And they tighten even more.

“More importantly,” Jun butts in, “Jihoon still hasn’t told me where he applied, and we’re running out of time.”

“I’m not telling you ever,” Jihoon clips back with a satisfied smile.

“I happen to know,” Soonyoung says, wiggling his eyebrows, before Jun can start whining, “and I’ll tell you if you come over early to help set up for the party.”

“There’s no way you would know,” Jihoon snarls, but Soonyoung just covers his mouth on the side where Jun is sitting and begins mouthing words that mean nothing to Wonwoo but apparently mean _a lot_ to Jihoon, as his eyes grow wider with each passing second. “How did you know that?” he bellows once Soonyoung is finished, scaring every student within a five-table range out of their seats.

“You bet your ass I’ll be there, my man,” Jun says without hesitation, reaching forward to give Soonyoung a firm handshake despite the thoroughly enraged Jihoon exploding beside him.

“Can I bring candy corn as a snack, or is it completely off-limits now?” Seungcheol blurts suddenly, and Soonyoung shrugs.

“If you want to bring it, I guess you can, but I’m not sure most of us can still stomach the sight of it.” Jihoon shudders, temporarily abandoning his fury.

“Am I seriously never gonna get to know what happened?” Mingyu asks, and Jisoo places a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“I’ll tell you later,” he promises. Jihoon is immediately back to being angry, though it’s no longer directed at Soonyoung.

“The _hell_ you will!” he cries menacingly, but Jisoo just smiles back, a picture of tranquility. Wonwoo gets the feeling that the information won’t be kept from Mingyu for much longer no matter how vehemently Jihoon attempts to keep it under wraps.

When the time for the party nears later in the evening, Wonwoo dons his firefighter costume with gusto, appreciating how good he looks in it for a solid minute before walking out the door. Soonyoung lives a little farther away than Jeonghan does, and Wonwoo always ends up allowing himself too much time to make the walk. Every time, he’s sure he’s given himself the exact amount of time necessary, and every time, he’s wrong. Today is no different. A solid twelve minutes early, Wonwoo strides up the path to Soonyoung’s front door and pushes the doorbell. The sun is just starting to make its escape for the night, dusting the sky a delicate orange, and young trick-or-treaters have already begun making their rounds throughout the neighborhood.

“Wow, nice boring old people costume,” Soonyoung remarks as he opens the door in an incredibly detailed zombie costume. “What’ll it be next year, an accountant?”

“Laugh all you want,” Wonwoo says, ignoring the high likelihood that he probably won’t be dressing up as anything next year, “I know I look awesome.” He follows Soonyoung into the living room, which has been decked out with cheesy decorations like fake cobwebs and hanging ghosts, and finds a few others have already arrived. Jun in his pirate costume was expected to be early, but Jisoo and Mingyu sit on the couch as well, deeply immersed in conversation. Jisoo’s ridiculous hot dog costume is almost enough to distract Wonwoo from Mingyu’s dangerously alluring vampire getup, but not quite enough to stop the strings of his heart from being tugged to and fro.

“So then, basically,” he hears Jisoo say as he nears, “Seungcheol said he would give ten dollars to whoever could eat the most candy corn in three minutes.” Mingyu listens with an intensity unlike anything Wonwoo’s ever seen, and it’s hard to believe he’s _that_ desperate to know what exactly transpired at last year’s party. “Jihoon needed ten dollars for, like... I don’t know. Something Jihoon-y.”

“New headphones,” Jun chimes in from the other side of the couch. Jisoo nods in affirmation.

“Yeah, that sounds like Jihoon. Anyway, he needed ten dollars, so when Seungcheol started the timer, he was just inhaling candy corn. I mean, you would not believe how fast he was eating it even if I had a video to show you. It was nuts.” He shakes his head to rid himself of the mental image, but Wonwoo knows he can’t get the sight to leave his mind. _You can never make that leave._ “So, time is up, and the rest of us have eaten like five or six handfuls of candy corn, but Jihoon has eaten like two-and-a-half entire _bags._ We were all screaming. I mean, who eats that much candy corn?”

“It was impressive as shit,” Soonyoung acknowledges. “Only for like two minutes, though.”

“Yeah,” Jisoo picks back up, already shuddering at the direction the story is about to go. Everyone present shudders except Mingyu, who could have lived a blissfully ignorant life were he not so bent on learning the truth. Wonwoo pities him. “So he’s eaten all this candy corn, and we’re all cheering for him, and then suddenly he looks not good. Like, _really_ not good.”

“I thought he still looked good.”

“Firstly, Jun,” Jisoo snaps, “don’t interrupt my story to say dumb shit. Secondly, you are a sick man.” Jun brings a hand to his wounded heart, raising his eyebrows, and Jisoo plows ahead. “So he’s got this look on his face, and none of us have a good feeling about it, but before we can ask him what’s wrong, he just sprints out the front door. We all rush to follow him outside, and he’s just puking all of the candy corn out on the grass. It was awful.” He shivers again at the memory, and Mingyu’s jaw drops to the floor. “I don’t think it would have been as bad if nobody was around, but there was a group of about six or seven grade schoolers coming up to the door at that moment, and he just let it all out right in front of them. My mom came outside when she heard children screaming, and she screamed, too.”

“It was a nightmare,” Soonyoung recalls, vaguely nostalgic. Jisoo rests a fist over his heart, looking for some reason like he’s about to cry.

“We didn’t have any kids come to get candy after that,” he sighs. “Not one. My mom was pissed. And she thinks we may not get any kids at all this year, either.” He nods solemnly before speaking again. “He still got the ten dollars, though, even though Seungcheol tried to say he didn’t deserve it because he couldn’t keep the candy corn down.”

“Jesus,” Mingyu manages after a while. The full weight of the story sinks in slowly, draining the life from his eyes bit by bit until he notices Wonwoo. “Hyung!” he cheers as he rises from the couch, the candy corn horror seemingly forgotten. “How long have you been here?”

“Just a few minutes,” Wonwoo says. As Mingyu gets closer, it’s hard not to notice how good he looks in his outfit. Not that Wonwoo doesn’t _want_ to notice, because he does, but if he didn’t, it would be hard. “You look good.”

“Thanks,” he responds, eyes twinkling. “So do you. I love a man in uniform.” Before Wonwoo has a chance to speak again, Mingyu’s face has split into a huge smile. He clamps a hand frenetically on Wonwoo’s shoulder. “Hyung!” he cries, eyes wide. “You look hot!” His sudden yelling grabs the attention of the remaining boys in the room, and Wonwoo just covers his face with both hands. “Get it? Like fire. Because you’re a fireman!” Jisoo breathes out an exhausted sigh.

“I always thought your jokes were better than Wonwoo’s,” he admits, “but it looks like I was wrong. You are just as bad.” Mingyu parts his lips to defend himself, but the sound of the front door being kicked in derails his train of thought completely. Bewildered, they all turn their heads to see a breathless Jihoon running frantically into the room to join them.

“Am I too late?” he asks in a panic, panting heavily. His Peter Pan ensemble looks very haphazard, like he rushed to put it on as quickly as possible and then ran at top speed all the way here, and Wonwoo doesn’t doubt that’s exactly what happened.

“Afraid so, buddy,” Soonyoung says, voice oozing false sympathy. “Jisoo has already told the gruesome tale of your run-in with the candy corn, and I told Jun where you applied as soon as he got here.”

“Not to brag,” Jun brags, “but all my guesses were spot on.”

“Damn it!” Jihoon howls, slamming his fist into his own knee with alarming force. “If only I hadn’t accidentally fallen asleep… I could have stopped everything…”

“No need to be so dramatic.” Jun crosses the room and drapes an arm over his shoulder as he talks, tugging Jihoon’s tunic to make it look more presentable. Soonyoung eyes them curiously.

“Are you guys supposed to be in couple costumes?” Jun’s mouth stretches into a proud grin while Jihoon’s cheeks just tint pink.

“Exactly!” he cries excitedly, tightening his hold around Jihoon. “I’m Captain Hook, and he’s Peter Pan!”

“Captain Hook and Peter Pan are enemies,” Wonwoo points out.

“Just like us,” Jihoon snorts, but he does nothing to escape Jun’s grasp. Mingyu turns his attention back to Wonwoo, a light grin playing at his lips.

“We should’ve done couple costumes,” he says in a voice so low it makes Wonwoo’s chest ache. “Maybe we can next year.” Again with that hint, that subtle hope, that quiet expectation that makes his heart hurt in a different way entirely. He doesn’t know what to do but pull his face into a smile and give a minimal nod.

“Maybe.” He hopes he doesn’t sound as tense as his insides feel.

The rest of the guys begin arriving in a steady stream. Seokmin bursts through the front door with a high-pitched scream, clad in a zombie costume almost identical to Soonyoung’s, and is immediately informed by all present that zombies do not scream, but that does not in any way deter him from continuing to shriek. Minghao and Jeonghan enter in matching Tweedledee and Tweedledum costumes, and Seungcheol shows up dressed as some character from an obscure cartoon nobody watches but him. Chan, Hansol, and Seungkwan are the last to arrive, in strangely perfect Rowdyruff Boys garb as a cohesive trio. With the entire squad assembled, they all cram into the living room to partake in Soonyoung’s planned activities, which mainly consist of watching Halloween movies.

Two and a half movies later, hardly anyone is paying attention to the TV screen aside from Wonwoo. Hansol and Seungkwan are in the middle of a very loud argument over who’s better at rapping _Ice Ice Baby_ while Chan sits between them actually rapping it. Minghao and Jeonghan glance at the screen only for long enough to whisper comments to each other and burst into quiet fits of giggles. Seungcheol and Jisoo have roped Mingyu into a strange game involving lots of yelling and punching, and Soonyoung and Seokmin seem to have resumed their intense patty-cake match from Jeonghan’s birthday party. What’s stealing most of Wonwoo’s focus, though, is Jun and Jihoon, squished not quite inconspicuously against the side of the couch and attached at the face.

It’s pissing Wonwoo off. Not that they’re _together_ , of course; they’re good for each other, and it’s been a long time coming. Not that they’re kissing, either, because of course they would be. But he can’t shake the seed of jealousy in his gut forming over the knowledge that they will be in the same place next year without any worries. Sure, Jihoon acts like he wants Jun gone, but there was no reasonable way he wouldn’t ever let him find out: whether his nap this afternoon really was an accident is incredibly dubious. They don’t have to worry about separation at all. How is it fair that they get to sit over there macking on each other without a care in the world while Wonwoo has to stew in stress on the couch while his own boyfriend plays some dumb game? It isn’t. It isn’t, and yet it’s the way it is. As much as he wants to be happy for them, it’s hard to get past the growing gates of envy.

At the very end of movie three, Mingyu rejoins Wonwoo on the couch, tired of being mercilessly beaten by the two upperclassmen still very zealously playing their unusual game. Soft snoring from the side of the sofa with the higher Jeonghan population ushers them into the fourth film of the evening as Mingyu slides his arms around Wonwoo. It feels nice to be with him like this, but it’s hard to appreciate it for what it is when all he can think about is next year and how little time they have left together before then.

Is it fair of him to do that to Mingyu? To make him put up with distance? It’s not like they’ve been together for years and nothing can shake them, after all. They only just met a few months ago. Who’s to say they’ll even still be together this time next year? There’s still a lot they don’t know about each other and a lot that could go wrong. _Maybe we should just break up now_. He kicks himself immediately for thinking it, but that doesn’t make the thought go away.

He doesn’t want to break up with Mingyu. Not even a little bit. Now that they’ve gotten to where they are, mutual feelings and all, he isn’t eager to let it go; however, he doesn’t want to watch it fall away either, crushed by the pressure of distance and unmet expectations, stripped of everything that made it good until it’s no more than a withered husk of ‘why’s.

No matter how much he wants to take his mind off ending the relationship it, he can’t. It’s always at the very back of his thoughts. When he’s with Mingyu, when he’s alone, when he’s at school, when he’s at home, when his other acceptance letters start arriving. Especially when his top choice acceptance letter finally arrives right at the beginning of December. _I should tell Mingyu now,_ he says to himself the day it arrives, and he intends to do it, but he just can’t make himself.

Weeks pass. Classes end. He still hasn’t told Mingyu, and if he does now, it’ll seem like he’s been hiding it. Maybe he has. He’s not quite sure anymore.

Wonwoo’s mom makes herself scarce when Christmas rolls around. It’s probably because she doesn’t want to get in the way of Wonwoo and Mingyu, but he still wishes she were here. At Seungcheol’s Christmas party last night, Mingyu wouldn’t stop talking about how much fun next year is going to be, and Wonwoo had no choice but to close his lips and nod his head, though if he’s being honest, that’s his own fault.

They sit on the couch now watching some claymation film about spreading the magic of Santa Claus or something like that, Mingyu rubbing Wonwoo’s shoulder absentmindedly as they watch the little dolls spin around. “They sure have some dirty hands,” he remarks quietly, completely absorbed. “They should wash them.” Wonwoo chuckles because that is _such_ a Mingyu thing to pay attention to, and his heart beats a little faster when Mingyu turns a warm smile his way. It clenches when he remembers what he still has to do. “Speaking of hands,” he says suddenly, reaching into his coat pocket, “this doesn’t have anything to do with hands, but I got you something.”

“Mingyu,” Wonwoo says in vague irritation. “We already exchanged gifts yesterday.”

“I know,” he says quietly, pulling a very small parcel out of his pocket, “but I got you this anyway. It’s kind of for me, too, so just take it.” Wonwoo reaches forward gingerly with a tired sigh, lifting the little box and opening it nervously. Inside is a long loop of plain silver chain, evidently a necklace, with a little silver charm dangling on the end that looks like what a younger Wonwoo would call a very angular capital E.

“Sigma?” Wonwoo asks, making no attempt to hide his confusion. He watches it twirl in the air for another second, completely lost. _Did we have some inside joke having to do with the Greek alphabet that I forgot about?_ “Not to be that guy,” he says grudgingly, meeting Mingyu’s eyes, “but why sigma? Is it a math thing? Are you telling me to become a frat bro? If that’s the case, I refuse.” Mingyu groans.

“It’s not _sigma_ ,” he argues defensively, taking the charm in his hands and peering at it. After a while, he sighs. “Well, okay, it’s probably supposed to be sigma,” he admits, “but that’s not what it is.” Wonwoo raises his eyebrows curiously. “Look.” He turns it sideways. “It’s a W!” Wonwoo watches in amusement as he flips it around the other way. “It’s also an M!” He gestures violently, pointing first at Wonwoo’s chest, then at his own. “Get it, hyung? It’s us! You’re the W, and I’m the M!” Wonwoo chuckles, reclaiming his present.

“You’re unbelievable,” he muses. Who but Mingyu would even bother to get such a ridiculous gift? Who but Mingyu would make the words he has to say so hard to force out? “How did you not realize it was supposed to be sigma?”

“I got one for myself, too,” he says, ignoring the question, “so we can both wear them and everyone will know we’re an _item_.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “Pretty swell, eh?” Wonwoo nods, reluctantly surrendering to his overwhelming enthusiasm. “I know we haven’t been together very long, so this is probably kinda forward of me, but…” He shrugs, a wide grin tugging at his lips, and Wonwoo’s chest feels like it’s about to cave in. _This is only gonna get harder the longer you wait. It needs to be now._ He places the necklace back in Mingyu’s hand and exhales a shaky breath.

“I know you already went to all this trouble,” he says, avoiding Mingyu’s eyes, “but maybe we ought to call it quits.” When he forces himself to look at Mingyu’s face, he sees a few different emotions swirling in it, but more than anything, he sees confusion.

“What?” he asks softly, and Wonwoo doesn’t know if he can bear to repeat himself.

“You know,” he says, averting his gaze again, “us. Maybe we should…” He trails off, letting Mingyu connect the dots where it pains him too much to continue.

“Are you breaking up with me?” Wonwoo doesn’t need to see his face to know he’s hurt. It comes through loud and clear with every word, and Wonwoo knows there’s no way he can hold it together if he looks at him.

“Yeah,” he whispers. Then there’s silence. A long silence. Too much silence.

“Fine,” Mingyu says after an eternity of held breath, and for a moment, Wonwoo can’t believe his ears. Even when he can believe them, he can’t believe them. _He doesn’t even care? He won’t even ask why?_ Wonwoo whips his head back to face Mingyu in outrage, outrage he doesn’t really deserve to feel since _he’s_ the one doing the breaking up here, and he finds Mingyu looking much more upset than his brief answer let on. “Did you think I would just say that and let you go?” he asks, voice trembling, teetering on the line between anger and sadness. “It’s _Christmas_ , hyung. You better have a damn good reason for this.”

“I just don’t think it’s gonna work out,” Wonwoo scrambles to say, looking away again. Mingyu’s eyes on him are hard.

“Why not?” he asks, still trying to keep his calm and failing horribly. Wonwoo feels fingertips gently brushing the side of his face. “Jesus, won’t you at least look at me?”

“There’s something important I haven’t told you yet,” Wonwoo answers without turning his head, but Mingyu’s hand holds its position at his cheek.

“What is it?” His heart drops though his stomach. “Did you…” He struggles to push the words out. “Is there somebody else?”

“No!” Wonwoo yelps, finally finding the guts to look Mingyu in the eyes. “Of course not.”

“What is it then?”

“It’s about next year.” Mingyu relaxes a little, then stiffens again.

“What about next year?” he asks hesitantly.

“I got accepted to my top choice,” he says, and Mingyu brightens suddenly, patting him on the shoulder.

“Wow, hyung!” he chirps. “Congratulations!” When Wonwoo doesn’t say anything after another minute, his face falls again. “But why is that a problem?”

“It’s five hours away,” Wonwoo barely manages to get out. To his surprise, Mingyu relaxes almost completely, letting his shoulders slide back down to their normal slope. His eyes soften as he looks at Wonwoo, daring to let himself smile, only the slightest upward curve.

“Is that it?” he asks, and Wonwoo isn’t sure what to say. _Is that it? I guess._ But it doesn’t feel like he’s really cleared anything up.

“I guess,” he says at length, and Mingyu gives his shoulder a squeeze.

“I’m not letting you dump me on Christmas over that,” he says certainly.

“But,” Wonwoo begins, “if I’m away at school, and the distance gets to be too much, and you break up with me…” He shakes his head, desperate to fight back the stinging in his eyes at just the thought. “I don’t think I could deal with that. So we may as well just do it now.” Mingyu sighs in a “you’re an idiot” kind of way and levels his vision.

“I’m not gonna break up with you while you’re at school as long as you don’t break up with me,” he promises. “You don’t need to worry about that, like, at all.”

“But five hours is far.”

“Do you still like me?” The sudden question catches Wonwoo off guard, and he’s nodding before he even realizes. Mingyu’s smile grows. “Okay. And do you think you’ll still like me when you leave for school?”

“Probably, yes,” Wonwoo confirms, and Mingyu nods firmly.

“You don’t need to worry about it, then,” he says, leaning in to press his lips gently to Wonwoo’s. He lingers there for a long moment before retreating with sparkling eyes. “I’m crazy about you,” he says decisively, and Wonwoo’s heart is doing its very best to break straight through his ribs. “And I’ll be crazy about you no matter where you are.” The corniness of the words hits them both with a delay, and Mingyu hides his rising blush by swooping in quickly for another kiss.

They follow a trail of soft pecks back to Wonwoo’s bedroom, and path of ghosting touches guides them into bed long before it’s time to sleep. In the midst of everything, Wonwoo realizes he doesn’t know why he thought ending things with Mingyu would be a good idea. He doesn’t know why he thought Mingyu would accept it, either, but he’s glad he didn’t, glad to still be able to wrap his arms around him like this. Maybe he’s not certain what the future will be, but maybe that’s okay. Maybe it’ll all turn out great; maybe it won’t. He figures it’s probably better to try to keep Mingyu around for the long haul than leave him behind on account of a maybe.

The morning sunlight peeks through the curtains as Wonwoo lies with Mingyu asleep next to him, carefully inspecting the necklace he received last night. He twists the charm around in his fingers, letting the chain hang down to lay in a cold bundle on his bare chest. It can’t have costed more than five dollars, which is probably why Mingyu bought two, but somehow it feels like a whole lot more than a cheap little metal sigma. The blankets beside him stir, and he glances over to see Mingyu propping himself up on one elbow and fixing Wonwoo with one of those smiles he can never seem to get enough of.

“You like it, right?” he asks, voice still low and heavy with sleep. Wonwoo shivers, letting the charm drop to join the coil of chain on his chest.

“Of course,” he says with a breezy chuckle. “It’s very you.” Mingyu quirks his eyebrow.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“I meant it as a compliment.” They grin at each other like fools for a solid eternity before Mingyu pipes up again, bringing his hand to rest atop the chilled jewelry on Wonwoo’s upper body.

“You can wear it every day when you’re away at school,” he mumbles groggily, eyes flitting closed, “and I’ll wear mine, and it’ll be like we’re together.” Wonwoo snickers, letting his eyelids droop as well.

“Sure.”

“I’ll call you all the time,” Mingyu murmurs, drumming his fingers on Wonwoo’s ribs.

“You’re gonna get tired of talking to me if you call me more than once a week.” He lays a hand atop Mingyu’s to still his fingers, but when they don’t stop moving, he cracks an eye open to see a mischievous grin adorning Mingyu’s face.

“I would never,” he scoffs as he flops back down onto the pillow. “I’m only gonna like you _more_.” He wiggles his shoulders in a strange sort of horizontal shimmy to accent his final syllable. Wonwoo snorts.

“I’d like to see you try.” Without warning, Mingyu dives in to plant a kiss on Wonwoo’s lips, long and deep and sweet despite the taste of the morning. He pulls away slowly, letting his lips linger by Wonwoo’s ear as he whispers.

“Just watch me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DID I SCARE YA. DID I GET YA. WERE U LIKE "holy shit!"? LET ME KNOW IN THE COMMENTS IF U WERE LIKE "holy shit!"  
> no but seriously. here we are. this is the "last chapter" technically, but i'll be writing a little epilogue soon, so there's still that. also sorry about the slight delay, i got a job and have been forced to start going to bed at grandma hours, so i didn't get the chance to finish until now. but anyway, here we are! it's a little bittersweet to be reaching the end after i've devoted so much time to this. here's a fun fact: this is officially the longest single work i have ever written in my life with the completion of this chapter. thank you so much to everybody who came along for the ride, and i hope you all enjoyed it at least for a moment! thank you so so much for getting this to 300 FUCKIN KUDOS WTF and i hope sometime i can write something for everyone again and you can all enjoy that too! as always, feedback is appreciated, and thank you so much for reading! i'll see you all next time for the very last time!


	15. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time passes, and the future happens.

Four years seems like a lot of time, but it isn’t, not at all. Nobody tells you how fast it’s going to go by. It was fast when Wonwoo was in high school, and it’s even faster when he’s in college. Before he even knows it, it’s just a few days shy of four entire years since the last time he walked across a stage in a stupid-looking gown to grab a piece of paper, and he’s about to do it again.

A philosophy degree. With an education minor, of course, so he can still get a job teaching important things to kids who couldn’t care less. “Useless” was what everyone else had called it, everyone except for Mingyu, of course. Mingyu thought it was great even when Wonwoo didn’t, always told him how awesome he thought he was for trying to wrap his mind around existential debate without exploding. “Meanwhile I just picked business because I thought it would be easy,” he would always say when they met up or talked on the phone. “You’re amazing.”

That’s another thing about the unruly speed of four years: it was already quick, but whenever Mingyu was with him, it was somehow even more so. His first year away went by in a flash, but comparatively, it was a snail’s crawl, inching along with impossible slowness. Obviously, that didn’t really have anything to do with time actually progressing more slowly, but it did have quite a bit to do with Mingyu.

They both underestimated what it would be like. When Mingyu promised that he wouldn’t let them break up while Wonwoo was gone, he had no idea what he was really saying. The months after Christmas only brought them closer, both in body and mind, which in turn made it that much more difficult when Wonwoo actually had to leave.

“I seriously didn’t think it was possible to miss someone this much,” Mingyu had said one time over the phone, about a month into the school year. “I always thought people were just exaggerating, but this is bullshit.” He’d groaned, the sound crackling through the speakers. “I miss you so much.”

“I miss you, too,” Wonwoo had understated nonchalantly, fiddling with the stupid sigma charm hanging from his neck that he wore (and still continues to wear) every day.

“Are you wearing your necklace?” he’d asked suddenly, shocking Wonwoo halfway out of his chair and launching him into a very surprised coughing fit. _Is he psychic?_

“Yeah,” he admitted, and he really thought he could hear Mingyu smiling on the other end of the line.

“Me too,” Mingyu said in return. “I miss you.” A pause. “A lot.”

“You already said that.”

“I know.”

To this day, Wonwoo still doesn’t know how they made it through that first year, only seeing each other on breaks for what felt like fractions of seconds at a time; he usually just chalks it up to the almost unnervingly frequent phone calls that he knows his roommate hated him for. They did it, though, and when Wonwoo first came back home for the summer, Mingyu stayed at his house for four days in a row. It was pretty disgusting since he didn’t bring any of his own clean clothes to change into, but at the same time, Wonwoo wasn’t about to tell him to leave.

The next year, Mingyu came to a school that was only an hour and a half away from his, which made everything so much easier. They could actually meet up on weekends without having to worry about ten hours of driving, and if they really tried, they could see each other on weekdays, too. Sometimes they met halfway; sometimes Mingyu came to Wonwoo, sometimes Wonwoo to Mingyu. They still called each other almost daily, which Wonwoo thought was weird considering how much closer they were, but he wasn’t going to tell Mingyu no. His new roommate very vocally hated it, too, but he always left his dirty socks lying around anyway, so Wonwoo couldn’t really find it in himself to give a shit.

Looking back, it all feels like it happened in the blink of an eye, almost like it didn’t even happen at all, just a fleeting daydream of what it all will have been like once he’s past it. The only thing that makes him sure everything really happened is the graduation gown hanging in the closet of his apartment. Tomorrow morning, he’ll be walking across a stage to receive an actual, legit degree, and then he’ll be a bona fide adult who has to do grownup things and act responsible. He’s trying his best to put off thinking about how terrifying that is for the maximum amount of time possible.

When he walks across the stage in the morning and grabs his degree, he feels stranger than he’s ever felt before. On one hand, he gets the sense he’s just made a huge transition in his life, but on the other, it’s like nothing has changed at all, like he’s still just a kid trying to make it through. As he descends from the stage, he hears a voice which unmistakably belongs to Mingyu yell something much louder than is acceptable, followed by hearty chuckles from most of the crowd. To save himself the embarrassment, he blocks out the words completely, acts like they weren’t meant for him at all, and stalks back to his seat without making eye contact with anyone for more than two seconds.

“You didn’t hear what I said?” Mingyu cries at the early lunch Wonwoo’s mom takes them to, startling the waitress as she departs after dropping their drinks off. “But it was so good!”

“I’m sure it was.” Mingyu eyes him carefully before responding.

“I can repeat—”

“Please don’t,” he says, and Mingyu sighs tiredly.

“It’s been almost five years now,” he laments, “and you’re still the least fun person ever.”

“Yet you continue to spend time with me,” Wonwoo says with a smirk, and Mingyu just nods defeatedly. “Also, I’m tons of fun.”

“I wouldn’t say tons,” his mom interjects, sipping her water. “Maybe just a little.” Wonwoo’s jaw hangs open as he turns to her, but there is no consolation to be found in her face. _Betrayed by my own mother._

“Unbelievable,” he says after a while, and Mingyu just pats him on the back.

“No arguing with that,” he says unsympathetically. “Too bad.”

That night, they have plans to have the whole gang together for dinner to celebrate Wonwoo’s graduation and the others that have already happened so far: Jeonghan’s degree in psychology, Jihoon’s in music production, Seungcheol’s in elementary school physical education. “Maybe we could teach at the same school! That would be awesome!” he’d said once with a suffocating level of blind enthusiasm.

“Maybe,” Wonwoo had allowed, “but I doubt I’ll be posing philosophical questions to third graders.”

As Wonwoo slides into his seat at the conglomeration of tables they have pushed together at Olive Garden, he can’t help but think how lucky it is that all thirteen of them are able to be here. He had a five-hour drive after graduation, but some of the other guys came from further away to get back in town. It feels weird to see everyone in the same place with high school so far behind them, strangely bittersweet, but he’s glad they’re all still together. Then again, he’s always glad until somebody starts talking.

“Congratulations, Wonwoo,” Jihoon says with a smirk as Wonwoo takes a sip of his water. “How’s your useless degree?” _So this is how it’s going to be._

“It’s great, thanks,” Wonwoo shoots back, full of venom. “How’s your useless husband?” Jihoon’s jaw drops in an instant while a smug grin takes its place on Wonwoo’s lips. _Bingo._

“You _told_ him?” Jihoon screeches, whipping around to face Jun and bringing his fist with him to land a solid blow right to is chest. Several nearby patrons gawk in alarm as he glances frantically among the faces at the table around him and finds surprise in none of them. “Wait, do _all_ of you know?” They nod in silent unison, all but Wonwoo full of sympathy. “What the _hell,_ Jun?”

That had been the most surprising news to any of them since who knows when. Sometime in the last year, Jihoon and Jun took themselves down to the courthouse and tied the knot officially without telling anyone. What was even more surprising is that it had apparently been Jihoon’s idea, something about “what if something bad happens and they won’t let me in the hospital to see you” and “we’re probably going to do it anyway, so we may as well do it now.” They both seem like the kind of no-nonsense, unromantic reasons Jihoon would use, but that didn’t stop Jun from secretly calling Wonwoo in a state of elation as soon as he got the chance.

“Wonwoo,” he’d said the very second the click came through the line, too excited to give him a chance to speak. “I have got some big news for you.”

“Oh, do you? It better be so life-altering that I shit my pants, because I’m on a date right now.”

“Gross,” Mingyu whined from across the table, shooting his straw wrapper directly into Wonwoo’s eye and eliciting a pained yelp when it made unfortunate contact with sclera.

“Now I have sustained an injury,” Wonwoo sighed, massaging his closed eyelid, “so if this isn’t the most amazing thing I’ve ever heard, I’m blocking your number.”

“Sounds like you two are having fun,” Jun said with a whistle. “This is great, though, because you can tell Mingyu for me since I’m not actually supposed to tell anyone.”

“If you don’t hurry up and tell me the damn news, I’m hanging up.”

“Okay, okay.” The proud grin he must have been wearing was easily distinguishable just by his tone. “Jihoon and I got married.” It took a concrete minute of silence for the words to sink in, and Wonwoo nearly let his phone drop to the floor once they did.

“You got _married?_ ” he whisper-screamed, the only good alternative he could think of to yelling in a public restaurant, and Mingyu choked on the soda he was drinking. “Are you shitting me right now?”

“Nope,” he said smugly. “Are you shitting right now?”

“What the _hell_ , dude?” Mingyu leaned forward to hear for himself and nearly knocked Wonwoo’s glass of water off the table in the process, earning himself a stern warning look from a nearby waiter. “Are you seriously telling the truth? You’re not just messing with me?”

“Trust me, I’m even more surprised than you are.”

Wonwoo didn’t doubt it. Several of them had placed bets on who would be the first to get hitched, and Jun had put more money than he probably should have on Soonyoung and Seokmin. Most of them had, actually, which meant Hansol, the sole better on Jihoon and Jun, would be raking in a sizable sum, and he certainly did. According to Seungkwan, he bought himself a shiny new Xbox with his winnings.

The information didn’t stay confidential for long. After numerous double dates with Minghao and Jeonghan, the latter’s tendency to let information slip thoughtlessly and often rubbed off on Mingyu in the worst way possible. Well, how could he just _not_ tell his own best friend about this development? And if Minghao knew, it meant Jeonghan knew by extension, and if Jeonghan knew, it meant everybody and their third cousins and their grandparents’ dogs knew. What’s shocking is that it took until now for Jihoon to learn that this news was already olds for the whole group.

“Jesus!” Jihoon grumbles, fishing into his pocket and pulling out a small gold band. “May as well put this damn thing on since everyone apparently knows anyway,” he spits, jamming it onto his finger. Jun wraps an arm around his shoulders, rubbing gently where his hand rests.

“There, there, Jihoonie. Nobody cares,” he assures him, neglecting to mention how much _everyone_ had cared months ago when they initially learned. “More importantly, aren’t you going to tell Wonwoo that I’m not useless?”

“Why would I even bother lying about that?” Jihoon sighs. “You’ve never done a single worthwhile thing for me.” Jun chuckles dryly, pulling him a little closer.

“That’s not what you were saying last ni—”

“Can’t I eat my god damn dinner in peace for once in my life?” Seungcheol bellows, violently gesticulating at his plate. “It’s been four entire years, and I _still_ can’t stand to be in the same place as both of you at the same time.”

“Why did it have to be you two?” Jisoo moans, stabbing his fork into the pasta Jun stripped him of his desire to eat. “Why couldn’t it have been Soonyoung and Seokmin like we all thought it would be?” A single tear squeezes out of one eye, and Wonwoo can’t tell if that’s genuine or emotion or his major in Theatre. “My innocent ears,” he mutters glumly, wiping away the lone tear. “My precious money…”

“We’re in no rush,” Soonyoung and Seokmin say in random unison. As much as they speak at the exact same time, they still somehow manage to be surprised by their synchronization on each occasion, and now is no exception. They turn to face each other with dropped jaws and wide eyes.

“That shit right there is _exactly_ why we all thought it would be you two,” Seungkwan spits bitterly. “I can’t believe I had to pay for part of Hansol’s Xbox, and it’s all Jihoon’s fault. I want a refund.”

“I’ll give you a refund,” Jihoon says as he begins cracking his knuckles, but Jun is gripping him too tightly for him to leave his seat.

“What the hell, Seungkwan?” Hansol cries, highly offended. “You play on it more than I do!”

“I do not!”

“Yes, you do!” he insists fervently. “Chan, back me up on this!”

“I’m not getting involved,” Chan says, looking anywhere but into Hansol’s eyes. “This has nothing to do with me.” Hansol grips his shoulder firmly, but he continues looking away.

“You traitor,” he whispers, very real hurt shining in his voice. “I trusted you.”

“Well, why don’t we just place bets on who’s next?” Seokmin suggests, only to be shot to death by glares from around the table.

“What, and have some clowns bet on someone else and then put their own bullshit off on purpose just so they won’t lose?” Seungkwan scoffs. “As if I would let that happen.”

“Speaking of that,” Mingyu whispers in a low voice, distracting Wonwoo from the ensuing debate, “I need to tell you something.” He pushes out a sizable breath before continuing. “I don’t think I want to have a boyfriend anymore.” Wonwoo eyes him suspiciously for a moment.

“Why?” he asks, unamused. “Is it because you would rather have a fiancée?” Mingyu’s jaw hangs open as he pulls his hand out from where he’d stashed it in his pocket, a small black box clutched in the center of his palm.

“How the hell did you know I was gonna say that?” Completely incredulous as always, completely unaware that his lame ass moves have become par for the course. “God,” he muses, “I thought it was gonna be so good, too.” Wonwoo rolls his eyes.

“Too bad,” he consoles with a pat on the back. “Maybe next time you shouldn’t include a segue from a conversation about marriage.” Mingyu releases a defeated sigh, letting his shoulders droop as he fixes a serious gaze on Wonwoo.

“I know it’s a little far away,” he mumbles, snapping the cap of the box open and shut again distractedly, “but next year, after I graduate?”

“Next year after you graduate, _what_?”

“You already know what, you asshole.”

“That doesn’t mean you don’t still have to ask, dickhead.” Mingyu huffs, a smile rising to his face all the same.

“Will you marry me?”

“Of course,” Wonwoo answers, unable to control his cheeks from lifting as he leans in.

“I swear to god,” Seungcheol blurts, “if the two of you kiss right now, I’m going to be so pissed off. It’s bad enough when it’s just Jun and Jihoon being all couple-y, but if I have to watch this bullshit occur with you guys, too, I’m quitting this group of friends. I swear on my life I will walk out of this restaurant.”

They do it anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're done!!! we're done we're done we're done!!! thanks so so so much to everyone who showed up for this and stuck around for the ride. every single comment meant so much and every single kudos(?) meant so much and every single person who gave this a chance meant and continues to mean so much. i hope u all enjoyed the epilogue just as much as i hope u enjoyed the rest of the story, and i'm glad we could do this. this is literally the first loooong thing in my life i have ever actually finished so i'm pretty emo atm but i'm still glad. this fic may be over now, but i'm not done writing! i will keep trying to improve so i hope some of u will be around for other shit, too. that about wraps it up for the notes this time, so one last time, i will say thank you thank you thank you so much for all the support and everything you all gave to this story. catch you some other time!

**Author's Note:**

> this will get more romantic i promise just bear with me please


End file.
